(^^M-r^/b^S & W™, 






THE 



JUVENIJLE JLATATER. 




3whoti»:s l^ms*$mM3 



OR, 



r o 



afoions of ICe ©riltL 




'/st/trr /*>* //V' 



Instruction Sc Entertainment of Tbung Persons, 
^ iJrTKRSPEHSEI) WITH / 

"BT GEORGE r BREJl~ER, 

Author 1 of Hours of Leisure, Siame se Tales, Sec. Sec. 



Printed sit tfie . Afinerva^Pre/s. 

¥GRA«K^S%WMAy&C?l^£Ja)£2rHAIX STREET. 



{j^'t^^S^^^^^¥^ / 



JUVENILE LAV4TER; 

A FAMILIAR EXPLANATION 

OF THE 

PASSIONS OF LE BRUN, 

CALCULATED FOP. THE 

Instruction and Entertainment of Young Persons ; 

INTERSPERSED WITH 

MORAL AND AMUSING TALES, 

ILLUSTRATING 

the benefit and happiness attendant on the 
GOOD PASSIONS, 

AND 

THE MISFORTUNES WHICH ENSUE THE BAD, IN 
THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFE* 



BY GEORGE BREWER, 
Author of Hours of Leisure, Siamese Tales, &c. #c 



LONDON; 

Printed at the Minerva Press, 

FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. 

Leafcnhall Street, 



BRpf/ 
Xtiz 






INTRODUCTION. 



To PA RENTS, and the G UJRDIA NS 
of YOUTH. 



The Doctrine of Phvsiocmomv, 

a.' <_? *J ' 

as attempted to be established 
by the ingenious Lavatee, 
may, in frequent instances, ap- 
pear chimerical; but there is a 
Physiognomy, the rules of which 
are always true, and whose evi- 
dences are of service to morality. 
The deformed Passions, disa- 
greeable in their appearance, 



INTRODUCTION. 

and dangerous in their conse- 
quences, are of a character that 
may be easily understood, and 
the features of Holiness so faith- 
fully described to the pupil, as 
to cause him to avoid vice, since 
it has such frightful representa- 
tions as would make him hateful 
to himself and to others, and 
in consequence prefer those Pas- 
sions which bestow on the coun- 
tenance the beautiful and placid 
features of a good and quiet 
mind. 



PREFACE, 



=>^ms* 



When it is considered, that in 
the indulgence of the good or bad 
Passions of the Human Mind, de- 
pends the happiness or misery of 
mankind, I shall not be accused of 
having chosen a subject beneath the 
province of my pen ; I shall, on the 
-other hand, have my fears even of 
being unequal to the task. I in- 
dulge, however, a hope, that aided 
by the talents of the inimitable 
Le Brun, I may be able to place an 
inscription at least, beneath the 



PREFACE. 

portraits he has so admirably deli- 
lieated, and which may have some 
effect on the mind of the young 
reader, who, when he observes that 
the best people look best and most 
happy, will be inclined to become 
of the best. 



LECTURE 

ON THE 

PASSION®, $c. 

jl5l FFAV years ago, there lived a 
gentleman, in the West of England, 
whose name was Willock: he was 
married to a very amiable lady, and 
had five children—three bovs and 
two girls; the boys were named 
John, William, and Henry/; and the 
girls, Caroline and Louisa, Mr. 
Willock was possessed of a very 
handsome fortune, but preferred a 
country to a town life, as he was 
very domestic, and his lady equally 
fond of retirement. The young 
people were brought up in the love 
1 



of God, and of their parents; and 
their dispositions were so good, that 
it was very seldom, indeed, that 
either their father or mother had 
occasion to find fault with them; so 
that perhaps there was not any where 
to be found a more happy family. 

Mr. Willock was very fond of his 
sons and daughters; and, though he 
was a man of learning and taste, fre- 
quently indulged them with amuse- 
ments, which he had the goodness to 
provide; but these entertainments 
were always such as were blended 
with instruction. 

The young persons of Mr. Wrl lock's 
family were frequently visited by the 
young persons of another family, the 
sons and daughters of a Mr. Trevor, 
who resided in the neighbourhood. 

It happened one autumn, that Mr. 



3 

Willock had promised that he would 
produce some new entertainment 
for his young friends, as soon as the 
evenings should begin to lengthen ; 
which intimation was not forgotten 
by Henry, who was a very clever 
boy, but rather too impatient. — 
Henry eagerly watched for the even- 
ings getting longer; and an obser- 
vation which his father accidentally 
made one day on the subject, was 
enough for Henry: he went imme- 
diately to his mother, who was seated 
at the fireside at work, and whispered 
her to remind Mr. Willock of his 
promise, which was instantly under- 
stood by all the rest of the young 
people ; and " Do, mamma/' was 
repeated by one after the other. Mr. 
Willock guessed, without much diffi- 
culty, at what was going on, and, 
b 2 



4 

without saying a word, rose up and 
walked to a table, on which was placed 
his letter-case, out of which he took 
a very handsome, small, red morocco 
port-folio. John, William, Henry* 
Caroline, Louisa, and the two young 
visitors, were all at once engaged 
in a very respectful manner, for they 
did not say a word, watching Mr. 
Willock, with their eyes sparkling 
with pleasure and expectation. At 
length Mr. Willock drew a chair, 
and sitting down, told all the young 
people to draw round the table, and 
that he would shew them something 
which would please them very much. 
Henry's eyes were as bright as two 
stars at this intelligence. " What is 
it, papa?" was the next question. — 
" This book, my dears, " said he, 
" contains some verv curious eiv 



5 

gravings, the Portraits of the Passions 
of the Human Mind, drawn by a very 
great French artist, named Le Brun; 
but I will explain them to you as I 
go on. Now then (continued he, 
opening the book), the entertain- 
ment begins." At these weirds, he 
turned over one of the leaves, and 
presented the portrait of 

ATTENTION. 

? Oh dear!" w r as now the general 
exclamation among the young peo- 
ple, while the eyes of all of them 
were in an instant fixed on the same 
object. " Pray, sir, whose portrait 
is that?" cried John, the eldest boy. 
—"That, my dear/'saidMr. Willock, 
" is your face, and the face of all of 
you at this moment/' — " Indeed, 
papa," cried Henry, " you are only 
b3 



6 

jesting with us; for I am sure that it 
is not in the least like me." — "Well 
then/' said Mr. Willock, " look at 
your brother William, and tell me if 
it is not like him/' — " Yes, indeed, 
papa/' cried Henry; "he makes just 
such another face/' — " True, my 
dear Henry/' returned Mr. Willock; 
" and so do each of you ; because 
this is the face of Attention, which 
each of you show at this moment. 
Only observe how the eyebrows sink 
and approach the sides of the nose — 
how the eyeballs turn towards the 
object of notice — how the mouth 
opens, and especially the upper part 
. — how the head declines a little, and 
becomes fixed in that posture, with- 
out any remarkable alteration— such," 
said he, " is the portrait of Atten- 
tion^ drawn by Le JBrun. 



f< But now, my dear children/' 
continued Mr. Willock, "as I have 
showed you the picture of Attention, 
it will be proper that I should de- 
scribe the passion to you. Attention 
is implanted in us by nature, as the 
means by which we may become ac- 
quainted with the objects of our 
curiosity, and is a virtue, whenever 
a proper object is selected. The 
face is then always interesting, how- 
ever intent it may appear; but it is 
the choice of a proper object which 
can alone make this passion of value, 
and truly estimable. Attention is 
therefore either praiseworthy or not, 
according to the object it selects. 
Praiseworthy Attentions are chiefly 
as follow: — 

" Attention to the duties of reli- 
gion. 



8 

"Attention of children to parents. 

" Attention of young people to 
their studies. 

" Attention to our friends and ac- 
quaintance. 

" Attention to the sick. 

" Attention to business. 

" Attention to dress. 

€C Attention to the duties of religion, 
such as praying to God, and attend- 
ing the divine service, is not only 
the most delightful Attention that can 
be paid, but is of most advantage to 
us, as by it we secure the blessing of 
Providence upon our actions, and it 
is only a preparation for the nume- 
rous comforts we enjoy. 

" Attention of children to parents 
who have taken care of them from 
infancy, being a proof of a grateful 
mind, is always lovely and praise- 
worthy. 



9 

€C Attention of young people to 
their studies is the only way for them 
to acquire improvement, for without 
it they must remain for ever in ig- 
norance; for instance, if, when I 
shewed you this portrait, you were 
all the time playing, or thinking of 
something eise, you could never 
know what Attention meant, nor the 
advantages to be gained by it. 

u Attention to our friends and ac- 
quaintance, particularly to the aged, 
is not only a duty, but shows our 
politeness and good breeding. 

" Attention to the sick is required 
from us by the precepts of religion, 
and by the need we may some day 
have for such Attention ourselves. 

" Attention to business merely 
consists in minding what we have 



10 

got to do, and is always rewarded 
with profit. 

" Attention to dress is necessary, 
as far as relates to cleanliness and 
propriety, but no further; and you 
will observe, that thereare many other 
Attentions which rank before it. 

" There is another Attention, which 
may be called Attention to trifles, 
which ought only to be paid when 
there is not any thing more worthy 
of our regard which ought to have 
the preference. 

u But as you have all of you been 
so attentive, I will tell you a story, 
which will show you the great virtue 
and use of Attention, 

" Charles and George were twin 
brothers, the children of Mr. Wilson, 
a gentleman of small income, but 



11 

who had nevertheless given them an 
excellent education. Both Charles 
and George were boys of naturally 
good dispositions; but Charles was 
careless, and George thoughtful : 
George always paid attention to what 
was said to him, and Charles did not. 
Charles was clever, and George ra- 
ther dull ; but the attention which 
George paid to his studies was so 
great, that he presently got the start 
of his brother. Charles was very 
much astonished when he found that 
George understood Latin better than 
himself, and was not aware that his 
deficiency was entirely owing to the 
want of Attention. 

" One day, when George and 
Charles were both of them very 
young, their father, who was a wise 
and good man, made each of them 



12 

a present of a duplicate of this por- 
trait, with strict injunctions to keep 
them safe, and to look at them often. 

" George had made a great many 
friends when young, by the Atten- 
tion he was always disposed to pay 
to his acquaintance, and particularly 
one old gentleman, who was very in- 
firm, and who received his civilities 
with great kindness; Charles, on the 
contrary, as he did not care for any 
one, so there were very few but his 
parents who cared for him. 

"At length George and Charles 
were both of them sent into the 
world, and placed in the counting- 
houses of merchants of eminence, 
who were friends of Mr. Wilson,— 
George immediately began to pay 
Attention to business, and Charges 
was as inattentive as ever. George 



13 
was always employed, and Charles 
did nothing but follow pleasure. 
Now there is not any thing more 
agreeable than amusement, when it 
does not interfere with business; but 
at the same time, there is not any 
thing that can be more dangerous, 
when it does. 

l< In a few years, Charles and 
George were established in business 
as Leghorn merchants, by the libe- 
rality of their father, who left him- 
self but a very small income to live 
ypon. Mr. Wilson had, however, 
the pleasure to see both his children 
well circumstanced, and in a way of 
making fortunes, before his death, 
which happened shortly after. 

" George paid so much attention 
to his concerns, that he was already 
in a way of getting rich; and, in ad- 
c 



n 

diuon to his own industry, he had 
the pleasure to reap the benefit of his 
kindness and attention to the infirm 
old gentleman, who died about this 
time, and left him his whole property. 

" Charles, during the whole time 
of his being in London, had not vi- 
sited his brother more than three 
times; and though George had fre- 
quently called to see him, he never 
took anv notice of his kindness, but 
altogether neglected him. Charles 
was engaged wholly in folly and ex- 
travagance, and was going on in a 
very bad way; in short, his concerns 
had been so mismanaged that he was 
on the point of becoming a bank- 
rupt. 

" One day, Charles returned home 
to his house, in great distress of mind, 
as he had not been able to make up a 



15 

payment on which his credit depend* 
ed. He had occasion to examine his 
desk to find some papers of conse- 
quence, when, in his search, he hap- 
pened to lay his hand upon, and un- 
rolled the neglected gift of his father, 
the portrait of Attention. 

" Charles hurst into tears when he 
beheld the picture, and threw himself 
in an agony of despair upon his bed, 
when a letter was brought him by the 
servant from an acquaintance, which 
informed him that his brother George 
was very ill. Charles, for the first 
time in his life, felt that he had ne- 
glected his brother, for the portrait 
of Attention had made an impression 
upon his mind. He arose immedi- 
ately, and went to the house of Mr. 
George Wilson, but found that he 
kept his bed: he was however ad- 
c2 



16 

mi t ted ; and George, who had not 
expected such a visitor, was nearly 
overcome at the sight of his brother. 
They embraced; and Charles, who 
had happened to have heard of a 
case similar to his brother's which had 
been managed with great success by 
his own physician, sent for him, while 
he remained at the bed-side. In the 
course of conversation, George in- 
quired very kindly after the state of 
his brother's affairs, and told him, 
that he hoped he was going on pros- 
perously. Charles, with a heart full 
of pain, only gave evasive answers; 
and on his brother's insisting that 
something pressed on his spirits, took 
his leave. 

Mr. George Wilson presently got 
well by the advice of the physician, 
who understood his case perfectly ; 



17 
and the very first thing that he did 
was to call upon his brother Charles, 
to thank him for his kind Attention, 
which had been the meansof restoring 
him to health. 

" George, having found the door 
open, walked immediately towards 
his brother's counting-house, wli^n 
he heard some very strong language, 
and found his brother engaged in 
conversation with one of his prin- 
cipal creditors, who threatened to 
make him a bankrupt, if he did not 
immediately come to a settlement. 

" George had been noticed bv his 
brother, and could see, in his turn, 
that Charles was sensible that he had 
heard every thin g. George, there- 
fore, begged of the creditor to 
acquaint him of the cause of his 
treating a merchant of eminence 
c3 



18 

with so little respect. The creditor 
made answer, that payment had been 
put off continually, and that he would 
wait no longer. George requested 
to know the amount of the debt, 
which was five thousand pounds, and, 
with a heart full of love and joy, sat 
down instantly at the desk, and hav- 
ing drawn a cheque on his banker 
for that amount, put it into the hands 
of his brother, saying at the same 
time, r My dear Charles, this is but 
a small return for the kind Attention 
you shewed me a few days ago/ — 
The creditor retired satisfied, and 
Charles embraced his brother, while 
the tears of gratitude for such a 
timely assistance flowed from his 
eyes, 

"George now desired to know the 
real state of his brother's affairs, 



19 

which, after some difficulty/he was 
prevailed upon to disclose, and which 
were as bad as they could be. How- 
ever, such was the prudence and At- 
tention of Mr. George Wilson, that 
he soon presented his brother with a 
plan, by which, with Attention, he 
might extricate himself. Charles, 
thoroughly sensible of his brother's 
advice, forsook his former propensi- 
ties, and paid the necessary Attention 
to his affairs; when his difficulties 
lessened by degrees ; and at length he 
had the pleasure to find himself out 
of debt, and is now a rich man. — 
Thus, my dear children, you sec that 
the very first mark of Attention of 
Charles was blessed with a speedy 
and successful return of good, and 
led to prosperity. It was too much 
to expectj that he should reap as great 



20 
a harvest as his brother, because he 
had been wanting of the same in- 
dustry ; nevertheless, as soon as he 
determined to be industrious and 
careful, he found that — To pay At- 
tention, is to receive Profit. " 

The young people had been ex- 
tremely attentive during the whole 
time that Mr. Willock was relating 
the history of George and Charles 
Wilson, and seemed not only very 
much pleased with the story, but 
convinced of the truth of its moral 
- — that to pay attention is to receive 
profit. 

...» Caroline began now to show 
some impatience to see the next pic- 
ture, and contrived to peep under 
one corner, when she cried out, " Oh 
dear ! what a beautiful face !- — It 
was 



21 

ADMIRATION. 

" Yes, my dear (answered Mr, 
Willock, turning over the leaf j, it is 
beautiful, because it expresses a good 
passion, and one that is very grate- 
ful to the mind — the passion of Ad- 
miration. Do you recollect how de- 
lighted you all were when you were 
on the sea-coast, and saw the sun 
rising above the horizon, and the 
ships sailing before the wind ? what 
you then felt was Admiration. In 
the passion of Admiration, the mind 
is occupied with pleasing thoughts, 
usually accompanied with love, es- 
teem, or veneration for the ob- 
ject ; and these sensations that give 
such a pleasant turn to the features. 
In this passion (according to Le 
JSrun), the eyebrow rises; the eye 



22 

opens a little more than ordinary; 
the eyeball, equally between the eye- 
lids, appears fixed on the object; 
the mouth half opens; and to this 
disposition of features, astonishment 
only exaggerates a little. 

'•' My dear children/' cried Mr. 
Willock, "I would wish you, as often 
as possible, to indulge this passion, 
as it leads to many virtues. — Admi- 
ration of the objects of nature briogs 
us to the contemplation of an al- 
mighty God, who has filled the uni- 
verse with the innumerable wonders 
of creation ; and, indeed, it is the 
whole work of Admiration to prove 
our dependence on him, and his 
great power and goodness; for it is 
impossible, when we view the sun, 
the moon, and the numberless stars, 
the wide ocean, and the extensive 



23 
landscapes covered with pasture,, and 
with herds and flocks, not to reflect, 
how great and infinitely wise must be 
the Author of all. This face of Le 
Brun, you may observe, appears oc- 
cupied in some such contemplation. 
It is almost the face of devotion. 

" Let us see, my dear children, 
what then are the most worthy objects 
of Admiration: They may be prin- 
cipally classed, 

" Admiration of the beauty and 
order of the universe. 

tJ Admiration of the power and 
goodness of the Almighty, who cre- 
ated all things. 

" Admiration of the structure of 
the human frame, of its strength and 
powers, and of the animal world. 

" Admiration of the goodness of 
Providence. 



ff Admiration of the effects of 
virtue, particularly of industry. 

<€ Admiration of worth, of cou- 
rage, genius, talent, and of the works 
of art. 

" Admiration of the beauty and 
order of the universe, is the first in 
which we become engaged. We see, 
you know, my dears, the same bless- 
ed sun, the fountain of heat, light, 
and life, return to us every day : — ? 
clouds may sometimes obscure it, 
but it soon appears again, to con- 
vince us that its presence is ordered 
by the Creator, to cherish the animal 
world, and every plant and flower 
that grows. If it is night, and we 
view the stars, what can we conjec- 
ture but that they must be placed in 
the firmament by an Almighty hand ? 
and it is this reflection that occasioned 



25 

one of our poets, Dr. Young, to 
say, 

" An undecout astronomer is mad;" 
because he could not believe that any 
person who had his senses would not 
pause with Admiration, and adore the 
Being who created these wonders of 
the heavens. Go to the window, 
my dear William/' said Mr. Willock, 
<( and look at them for a moment; 
they have just begun to appear." 

William went to the window, and 
all the rest of the young people fol* 
lowed him. Mr. Willock named to 
them some of the principal stars ; 
they were quite delighted ; and when 
he described to them the course of 
the planets, and that for many thou- 
sand years the same order had been 
preserved, their faces showed the 



26 
disposition of features which belong 
to Admiration. 

After they had perused the stars 
for a little time, Mr. Willock called 
their attention again to the picture. 
" Let us now, my dear children/' 
said he, S€ consider what must be the 
power and goodness of the Almighty, 
who created all these things; what 
can we conceive of the hand that 
could fix a ball of fire in the hea- 
vens, of the magnitude of the sun ? 
but our Admiration increases when 
we reflect, that it is that fire which 
occasions the plant and the herb to 
grow. You know, that in the win- 
ter the ground is bare; but when 
spring appears, and when the sun ap- 
proaches to us, it revives nature; and 
th£ seed which has -been sown may 



m 

then be seen sprouting its green heads 
above the earth : and the same source 
it is which gives food to man. How 
good is all this ! and do you not 
think that it calls upon us to be de- 
vout, that is, to love God, and to 
desire to follow his commandments, 
that the Almighty, who has given us 
so many blessings, may continue to 
bless us with his Providence, in all 
we do ? 

* The next object of our Admi- 
ration/ 9 said Mr. Willock, " is our- 
selves; for as David says in the 
psalms, 'We are fearfully and won- 
derfully made; 5 and is it not true? 
Observe, William, the formation of 
the eye, the curious make of the fin- 
gers, the strength of the muscles; 
how the blood circulates through 
your veins; and then the powers of 
d2 



28 
your mind ; how you can think, how 
you can reason upon what you hear 
and see. Is not all this matter of 
Admiration ? 

u If," continued Mr. Willock, " we 
go a step lower,, and survey the ani- 
mal creation, our Admiration will yet 
be great : whether we examine the 
mighty mammoth, the skeleton of 
which you saw at the exhibition the 
other day, or the little humming- 
bird, which was shewn you at the 
museum, still you must admire. It 
is true, that we admire also the works 
of man ; but if we do, they will 
only bring us back, after all, to think 
of that great power which gave to 
human beings such capacities. 

" The goodness of Providence 
ought to be the next great object of 
pur Admiration, which has fixed on 



29 
such an order and regularity in the 
universe, that it sheds a constant and 
continual blessing and benefit on 
mankind, by the rotation of the sea- 
sons, by rains which water the earth, 
and by an autumn sun to ripen the 
corn, and give us a plentiful harvest. 
" And, in addition to this general 
providence, which is for the benefit 
of all mankind, the good, by whom I 
mean those who love God, may rely 
on a providence that will guard, pro- 
tect, and bless them through the day. 
Therefore, w T hen you rise in the 
morning, pray sincerely for that 
protection, and you may depend 
upon having it. Judge Hale, who 
was a very good man, used to say, 
' that he could always calculate upon 
the successes of the next week, by 
the attention he had paid to the du- 
d3 



30 
ties of the Sunday ; for/ said he, 
' whenever I have passed that day in 
admiration of the goodness of God, 
and have prayed sincerely for his 
assistance, I have always found suc- 
cess to follow in my temporal affairs.' 
And this subject, he said, he had not 
considered lightly, but had been con- 
vinced of it from experience. 

" But you must not, my dear 
children, if you have this reliance 
upon the goodness of God, ever 
doubt it, or give way to mistrust, al- 
though you may meet in your future 
life with crosses and vexations ; be- 
cause, though you may meet with 
them, if you have had such a depen- 
dence, you may be sure they are for 
the best, and because you cannot tell 
what is the best for your own happi- 
ness. God Almighty is your hea- 



31 

verily father, as I may he your father 
on earth ; and he loves you with the 
same care, only with more knowledge 
and power to bless and protect yoiu 
Now it may have happened, that 
when you have wished to take a walk 
in a warm summer's day, that I may 
have forbid it, and that you may have 
been, of course, greatly grieved and 
disappointed ; but when in the cool 
of the evening 1 have invited you to 
ta^te the refreshing air, you have been 
much better pleased; you have dis- 
covered my reasons for having forbid 
it before; that then it was ill timed, 
that you might have over-heated 
yourselves, and have caught cold ; 
that it would be more pleasant in the 
evening, and that I could then spare 
time to accompany you Think then, 
my dear children, how much more 



32 

should you yield to the disappoint- 
ments God Almighty may place in 
your way ; and when they happen, 
make yourselves happy with the best 
of all comforts, that it is from his 
goodness. Besides, when you come 
to read more of history, and to grow 
up, and notice the changes that take 
place in the lives of your acquaint- 
ance, you will find, that what appears 
as the severest misfortune, may be 
the means of bringing great good. 
You remember the history of Joseph, 
in the Bible ; and pray recollect 
that beautiful story through life. Jo- 
seph's brethren, you know, who en- 
vied him, conspired against his life; 
but his brother Reuben said, * do not 
let us kill him: 9 however, they cast 
him into a pit in the wilderness, and 
left him. Now their belief was, that 



33 

he would perish ; for they never 
thought that their cruelty would be, 
the very cause that would bring him 
to great honour and preferment. — 
And it is thus that the evil designs 
of the wicked are made to produce 
good, instead of harm, to the very 
objects of their hatred. You recol- 
lect that a company of IshmaeHtes, 
coming from Gilcad, with the camels, 
bearing spicery, and palm, and 
myrrh, which they were going to 
carry down to Egypt, bought him of 
his brethren, drew him out of the 
pit, carried him away with them, and 
sold him to Potiphar, an officer of 
Pharaoh, and a captain of the guard. 
God Almighty inclined Potiphar to 
show kindness to Joseph, and he ad- 
vanced him : but a second, and grea- 
ter misfortune was to happen to Jo- 



34 

seph, to produce him still greater 
good. He is falsely accused by Po- 
tiphar's wife, and thrown into prison, 
where was also the butler and baker 
of Pharaoh. God supplies him with 
•wisdom to interpret their dreams; 
he is sent for by Pharaoh, and gives 
him counsel ; the king promotes 
him, and makes him riiler over his 
house. But a yet more extraordi- 
nary work of Providence was to be 
performed ; Joseph was to be the 
means of saving the lives of his bro- 
thers, who had conspired against him. 
There was a great famine in the land 
of Canaan, where his father and bro- 
thers dwelt ; and Jacob sent his ten 
sons to Egypt for corn ; but as he 
had loved Joseph, and was afraid some 
mischief would happen to Benjamin, 
heilid not send him with them; he 



35 
was, however, asked for by Joseph, 
who pretended not to know his bro- 
thers, and whom they could not re- 
collect in his greatness. They were 
sent back for Benjamin. 

" I am sure that you recollect in 
what manner Joseph entertained his 
brothers on their return ; that he for- 
gave them in his heart ; that he re- 
lieved them from the horrors of fa- 
mine ; that the only rebuke he used, 
when he parted with them, w T as of 
the most gentle kind — c See that you 
fall not oat by the way.' 

" Now, my dear children, reflect 
upon this history, and how many 
times Joseph appeared to have caxise 
to complain of the hardness of his 
lot ; and yet it all led to honour and 
promotion; and this should teach 
you to do the best you can, in what* 



36 

soever situation you may be placed, 
and to depend on God, who is the 
great object of your admiration, for 
the rest. 

S€ The next deserving objects of 
our admiration are the effects of vir- 
tue, and particularly of Industry^-— 
Virtue never fails to give blessings 
to mankind ; thus it is, that the good 
are always the most happy. Indus- 
try has the same blessing attending 
it, and the recompence is of the most 
delightful nature, as it gives the means 
of acquiring many comforts, and 
the power of doing a great deal of 
good. Your mamma can tell you a 
very pleasant story of the good ef- 
fects of industry, over indolence, or 
despair." At this intimation, all the 
young party directed their eyes to 
Mrs. Willock, and " Pray, mamma, 



37 

do oblige us," was repeated by two 
or three of them at the same time. 

Mrs. Willock, who was not only a 
very elegant and well-educated wo- 
man, but extremely good-natured, 
smiled at the eagerness of her young 
friends, and began 

The Story of the Two Gardeners. 

" There were two market gar- 
deners, who were also neighbours, 
and lived somewhere near the village 
of Hammersmith, It happened, that 
the early crops of peas, raised by 
these two poor men, were in one 
morning killed by a severe frost. — 
One of the gardeners, a very short 
time afterwards, having occasion to 
pass by the gate of his friend, called 
in to condole with him on their mu- 
tual misfortune. ' Ah,' cried he to 



38 

the other, c how unfortunate have we 
been, neighbour ! do you know that 
1 have done nothing but fret ever 
since my disaster; but, bless me, 
what is here ? you have a fine healthy 
crop of peas saved from the frost/ — 
* Not so/ cried the other. — f What 
are they then ?' said he. ' Why/ re- 
turned the other gardener, f these 
are what I sowed immediately after 
my loss/ — c What, coming up al- 
ready ?' cried the fretter. — c Yes/ — ; 
« Bless me, how is that?' — 'Why, 
while.you was fretting, I was work- 
ing, that's all/ — c What, and don't 
you fret when you have a loss?' — ( .To 
be sure I do/— € Well, how then?' — 
' Why, though I do fret, I always put 
it off until after I have repaired the 
mischief/—' Lord/ why then you 
have na. occasion to fret at all/ — 



39 
* True/ replied the industrious gar- 
dener, c and that is the very reason ^ 
the less one frets, the better/ 

"lam sure, my dears, that I need 
not tell vou the moral of this little fa- 
ble, because I am sure that you have 
all of you good sense enough to find 
it out: but as you may like to hear 
it from me, I will tell it you — That 
the pleasant est reflection you can have 
of a misfortune is, that you have bten 
able, by your industry, to repair it. 
And it is really astonishing, my dear 
children/' continued she, " how ma- 
ny mischiefs might be repaired by a 
little trouble and industry/* 

"Admiration of worth, courage/ 
genius, talent, and of the works of 
art, is the next of which/' con- 
tinued Mr. Willock, " we have to 
speak. Admiration of worth is, 
k3 






40 
among good minds,, very grateful, 
for they are always pleased to find 
excellence; and in this country you 
may indulge the passion at any time, 
by reading the works of great au- 
thors, such as Locke, Addison, Sir 
Richard Steel, Doctor Johnson, and 
others, wherein you will have to ad- 
mire an excellent moral, and a pure 
and elegant language* 

t€ Admiration of courage is ano- 
ther pleasant sensation, though at* 
tended with a portion of pain. It 
was this kind of Admiration which 
was felt by Philip king of Macedon, 
when his son Alexander seized hold 
of the bridle of Bucephalus, who was 
so wild and unmanageable, that no 
one had been able to mount him, and 
softly letting fall his cloak, threw 
himself upon his back in one leap, 



41 

and animating him with his voice, put 
him in full speed, to the astonish- 
ment of every one present. Philip, 
with tears of joy and Admiration in 
his eyes, exclaimed — c My son, seek 
a kingdom more worthy of thee, for 
Macedon is below thy merit/ 

cc Admiration of genius and talent 
may be often indulged. The many 
curious pieces of mechanism that 
may be seen daily, are objects wor- 
thy of admiration; but perhaps the 
most extraordinary of any to a 
young mind is a ship, when it is 
considered, that within its space 
several hundreds of persons traverse 
immense oceans, and sail to places 
many thousand leagues distant. >r 

" I should like very much to go 
on board a ship," said Henry, white 
e3 



42 

his father had paused a moment Jo 
take a pinch of snuff. 

" I intend/' answered Mr. Wil- 
lock, " that you and your brothers 
shall go to-morrow on board the 
Rainbow man of war, the captain 
of which is my particular friend : and 
if you do, I think your faces will 
express something more than simple 
Admiration. Suppose we look at 
the next picture; will not your looks 
be more like it than this? for (said he, 
as he turned over the leaf) it is 

A DM I RATI ON with ASTON ISH M ENT. 

€C Yon may observe, that the mo- 
tions which accompany this passion 
are more lively and stronger marked, 
the eyebrows more elevated, the 
eyes more open, the eyeball further 
jrom the lower eyelid, and more 



43 

steadily fixed ; the mouth is more 
open ; and all the parts in a much 
stronger emotion; but, lest you 
should be too much inclined to stare 
and gape, I will tell you a story of 
two schoolfellows,, which is 

The History of Bill Vacant and 
Henry Hawk's- eye. 

"Bill Vacant and Henry Hawk's-eye 
were schoolfellows of much about 
the same age. Henry Hawk's-eye 
was a clever, intelligent boy, who 
was always seeking after knowledge, 
and taking great pains to acquire it. 
When he saw any thing new or cu- 
rious, he was not contented with 
wishing that he knew what it was, 
but he always set to work seriously 
to find out every thing about it ; and 



44 
if it was a piece of mechanism, how 
it was made. Bill Vacant, on the 
other hand, always looked as if he 
w 7 as very deeply engaged in thought, 
when the truth was, that he was not, 
all the time, thinking of any thing at 
all. Bill Vacant was always wonder- 
ing; he would wonder two or three 
times a-day what a clock it was ? — ■ 
what he should have for dinner ?— 
whether it would be fine on the mor- 
row ? — whether he should go to see 
his grandmother at Christmas ? or 
something equally uninteresting. If 
he saw any curious piece of work- 
manship, he would wonder how it 
was made, but would be satisfied with 
wondering ; his mouth therefore was 
always wide open with Astonishment, 
but was never filled with instruction, 
which he would not be at the pain§ 



45 

to gather: his was not * The fond 
attentive gaze of young Astonishment,' 
mentioned by the poet Akenside, 
who wrote a charming book, which 
you must read some day, called * The 
Pleasures of the Imagination.' Bill 
Vacant was always gazing, it is true, 
but to very little purpose; he was 
not only ignorant, but likely to con- 
tinue so all his life ; and so it turned 
out ; for Henry Hawk's-eye having 
reflected that his father was not rich, 
and that he would have to get his own 
living in the world, bent his thoughts 
towards a profession, and fixed upon 
the law. Henry was presently a 
student in the Temple, and paid so 
much attention to his studies, that 
he very soon became much resorted 
to to draw pleadings ; and it was 
not many years before he made a 



46 

handsome fortune. Bill Vacant, 
whose friends also had nothing to 
give him, was all this time wondering 
what would be the best line that he 
could embark in ; but as he was ig- 
norant of every thing, he found it 
so difficult to determine, that day- 
succeeded day in slothful idleness. 
One instant he would commence 
merchant; the next he would go to 
sea ; then he would volunteer his seiv 
vices in the army ; in either of which 
lines, if he had had perseverance, 
he might have in a measure succeed- 
ed. The truth was, that poor Bill 
Vacant was always wondering what 
would be the best for him, when, in 
fact, he had better have taken up 
any thing than have wondered any 
longer about it. However, unhap- 
pily for him, he continued wonder- 



47 

ing all his life ; and when he was old 
and poor, all that he had to wonder 
at was, that other people had suc- 
ceeded in the w r orld so much better 
than himself. 

* € Such/' my dear children, " is 
the difference between Admiration, 
and that void of thought which oc- 
casions us to wonder without a desire 
of improvement. Never, therefore, 
lose your time in wondering ; but 
the instant you are at a loss to know 
any thing, inquire and study till you 
find it out, and master it. You may 
sometimes be led wrong, notwith- 
standing all your care; but do not 
grieve although you may; for a 
steady sure friend, called Experience, 
will step in to make you full amends." 

There was now an interval between 
the entertainments Mr, Willock had 



48 

promised his children, for tea and 
coffee were brought in, with fruit; 
when, after taking each a cup of tea, 
and Some strawberries, the young 
people retired to rest, highly gra- 
tified with the entertainment of the 



The Party to Weymouth. 

The next day presented a fine clear 
sky, and the young people were told 
to get themselves in readiness to go 
in the barouche to Weymouth; but 
Mrs. Willock being rather indisposed, 
was not of the party. There is not 
any thing more pleasant than the pre- 
paration in these cases; all was bus- 
tle and expectation. They were to 
go on board a ship — what a delight- 
ful excursion ! 

At length the time arrived — they 



49 

were at Weymouth — they saw the 
ships at anchor — nay more, they saw 
the king and royal party going on 
board the yacht. The ships were 
manned; the water was as smooth as 
milk. Mr. Willock had taken care 
to carry with him, for the amusement 
of the young people, the Passions 
of Le Brun, which he took out of 
his pocket as they were going on 
board the Rainbow, in the captain's 
barge, that had been sent for them. 

Henry was delighted — "Only, sir," 
said he to his father, " look what a 
number of men in blue jackets and 
white trowsers are standing upon the 
sails! 5 ' — "Those people, my dear," 
said he, "are our gallant defenders, 
our brave English tars ; they do not 
stand, as you call it, on the sails, but 
on the yards, to which the sails are 

F 



50 : 

fastened, or bent." — ' c Dear sir/' in- 
terrupted William, " what beautiful 
boat is that ?"— "That, my dearboy," 
said he, "is the barge in which is 
our dear sovereign, King George the 
Third. There he is ! — do you not 
see hitn ?■ — Here (said he, opening 
the book of Passions), look at this; 
this exDresses the sentiment you 
ought to feel ; it is 

VENERATION. 

" Veneration is (according to Le 
Brun) the result of admiration and 
esteem, when it has something for 
its object divine, beyond our com- 
prehension, or majestic in virtue. 
The face is modestly reclined; the 
eyebrows bent down ; the eyes al- 
most shut and fixed, and the mouth 
quite shut. These motions are all 



51 

gentle, humble, and full of respect. 
Who is it that must not feel the pas- 
sion of Veneration, at the name even 
of our beloved sovereign, eminent 
as he is in virtue, and mild and mer- 
ciful as he is on the throne ? No 
wild acts of ambition, no base per- 
fidy, no lawless stretch of power, 
has dishonoured his reign. He is the 
father of his people, and he has the 
affection and Veneration of every 
good man/' 

The barge now approached the 
side of the ship, which was manned, 
that is, the seamen stood on each side 
to hand the side-ropes (which were 
covered with red baize) to the com- 
pany; and Mr. Willock was received 
on the quarter-deck by captain 
Manly, who commanded the Rain- 
bow 7 . 

f2 



52 

A Description of a Man of War. 

Captain Manly, who was a very 
well-bred man, received his guests 
with great politeness, and gratified 
their curiosity by taking them all 
over the ship. He showed them the 
fore-castle, which is the fore part of 
the deck ; the main deck, the gally- 
fire, and the coppers wherein the sai- 
lors* dinner is cooked ; from thence 
he took them down the hatchways, to 
show them the midshipmens' births; 
and between decks, where the ham- 
mocks are slung, and the cable tiers, 
where the cables which hold the ship 
are coiled, or as you would call it, 
laid round ; and the bread-room, 
where the provisions are served out. 

Captain Manly next took his vi- 
sitors into his own cabin. Some 



refreshment was prepared, and among 
other things, he gave them some real 
salt junk, that is, salt beef, and 
some sea biscuit instead of white 
bread, which the sailors, with great 
contempt, call soft tommy. He gave 
them also some grog, as well as wine. 
They then returned to the quarter- 
deck, when John, William and Henry- 
amused themselves with the voting 
midshipmen, some of whom were 
old schoolfellows, and showed them 
how to go aloft up the shrouds (cal- 
led by the landsmen rop^e-ladders) 
into the mizen-top, whither they fol- 
lowed them a little way, but did not 
like climbing to get over the top rim, 
nor did thev choose to go through 
lubber's hole, which is a way of more 
safety, used by landsmen, for fear 
they should be laughed at. Hei>ry, 
f3 



54 
however, expressed a great inclina- 
tion to go to sea ; and on hearing 
captain Manly relate to his father 
the gallant achievements of Lord 
Nelson, his eyes sparkled with the 
love of glory. Captain Manly show- 
ed his guests a picture of his gallant 
friend ; and the passion of Venera- 
tion was again visible in every face. 

One of the quarter-masters (who 
are old seamen, and have the care of 
the quarter-deck, and whose duty it 
is to call the officers to their Watch, 
to turn thfe hour-glass, and go to the 
belfry to pull the bell-rope) was 
very attentive to the young gentle- 
men, and took them forward, where 
some of the sailors were dancing 
hornpipes on the main deck, to the 
music of a broken fiddle, played by 
an old black fidler. The young peo- 



bo 

pie gave the quarter-master (whom 
the sailors called Old Spun-yarn) 
some money to drink their healths; 
and he, in return, got one of the boys 
who waited on the midshipmen to 
go aloft, and stand upon the truck of 
the top-gallant-mast-head, which is 
at the very greatest height of the 
masts, where he stood on a space not 
larger than the top part of a dumb 
waiter, and drew in the pendant, and 
let it out again at pleasure. John 
and William shuddered to see him at 
such a tremendous height: but Henrv 
seemed very much delighted at the 
boy's activity. 

The boat was now manned, at the 
request of Mr. Willock, to put them 
on shore; but as the wind had sprung 
up, the water had got rather rough ; 
and before they had rowed far, a 



56. 
strong gale came on, when the boat's 
crew were obliged to pull very hard 
to make the shore; and as the tide 
run strong, they were some hours 
before they could fetch, that is, reach 
the pier. During their passage to 
shore, the boat shipped several seas, 
and the young people began to be a 
little frightened,, except Henry, who 
seemed more stout-hearted than any 
of the rest. Mr. Willock, for his 
part, was only uneasy on account of 
the delay it occasioned, and the ap-* 
prehensions which would occur to 
the mind of his good lady. At 
length, however, they were all land- 
ed safe on shore; and after taking 
a glass of wine, Mr. Willock set out 
for home, where he arrived late at 
night. It had now become quite 
tempestuous, and Mrs, Willock and 



57 

her little daughters were waiting 
with the most painful anxiety. Pre- 
sently, however, the carriage was 
heard at a distance on the road, and 
the gates were thrown open by the 
servants, before the bells could be 
rung. Mrs. Willock, who was a most 
affectionate mother, ran into the hall 
to meet and embrace her children ; 
and Caroline and Louisa ran to kiss 
their brothers, followed by all rhe 
servants in the house. The family 
were now all together, in the large 
parlour, where was a good fire, and 
all the comforts of home prepared 
for the travellers. When they were 
a little composed and refreshed, Mr. 
Willock drew from his pocket the 
Passions, and asked the young peo- 
ple if, when they came in, they had 
not seen a face like the one he shew- 



ss 

ed them ? when they one and all 
cried out, that it was mamma: the 
truth was, that it was the passion of 

RAPTURE. 

" Yes, indeed," said Mr. Willock, 
"it was the face of your dear mamma, 
and never better expressed ; full of 
gratitude to God, and veneration for 
that Almighty providence which con- 
ducted you home in safety, her eyes 
were directed towards heaven, her 
mouth was only opened to breathe 
a prayer of thankfulness, and the 
two corners were a little turned up 
with an expression of joy. 

"Rapture, my dear children/' said 
Mr. Willock, fc is the most extatic of 
the passions; it is a sentiment full 
of love, joy, esteem, and veneration ; 
it is an«excess o'f*pleasure, and is fre- 



59 

quenily too much lobe borne ; when 
so, it is relieved by tears; you will 
feel it sensibly, if ever you live to 
have children. 

" By the Rapture your dear mo- 
ther shewed at your safe return, you 
may do more than guess at how much 
she must love you ; you will, I am 
sure, be grateful for so much tender- 
ness and affection, and never do any 
thing that can give her pain. Thank 
God that we are once more happy 
together ; and let us go to our beds 
full of that sentiment, and to-mor- 
row morning, at breakfast, you shall 
entertain your mamma with an ac- 
count of your voyage/' 

The next morning, at breakfast, 
our happy domestic party met to- 
gether, refreshed, by undisturbed 
rest, the reposp of love and peace. 



60 
Henry related to his mamma all the 
particulars of their naval excursion 
the day before,, which he concluded 
by saying, that he should like very 
much to go to sea, when Mr. Wil- 
lock mildly interrupted him — u My 
dear Henry," said he, " do not make 
your mamma uneasy by saying so. 
If it is proper and suitable to the 
views in life which we have for you, 
your inclination will be studied; 
and if it is not, I am sure that you 
have too much good sense, as well 
as love for your parents, to wish for 
any thing that they might disap- 
prove." — Henry blushed a little, and 
said, " Indeed, sir, I will never think 
of any thing that you or my mamma 
may disapprove."— " That is spoken 
like a very good and sensible boy/J 
answered Mr. Willock : " but," said 



61 

he, " suppose that we return to the 
Passions of Le Brun, and see whether 
his faces will speak (for faces often 
do speak by strong expressions of 
the features) on the subject." He 
opened the book, which lay on the 
table, and the first portrait which 
presented itself was 

DESIRE. 

u Dear me ! how sharp the rmn 
looks !" said Henry. — " Yes/* cried 
Mr. Willock, t€ you will observe that 
this passion brings the eyebrows close 
together, and forwards the eyes, 
which are more open than ordinary ; 
the eyeball is inflamed, and places 
itself in the middle of the eye; the 
nostrils rise up, and are contracted 
towards the eyes; the mouth half 
©pens, and the spirits being in mo- 

G 



62' 
tion, give a glowing colour. Desire 
is most frequently unreasonable ; it 
often pants after things which are 
improper, or hurtful to itself Just 
now, when you expressed such an 
ardent wish to go to sea, your face 
had all the expression of Desire. — 
Now, my dear Henry, we shoujd ne- 
ver desire any thing, without due 
consideration of its value, or of the 
propriety of having it as we wish ; 
for instance, you should have 
thought, € It cannot matter much to 
me whether I spend my days on 
board of a ship, or on shore among 
my friends ; whether I am brought 
up to the law, or whether I go into 
the army ; each of these situations 
have their advantages and their ho- 
nours; they have, too, their labours 
and disappointments. I know that 



63 
my parents would sooner study my 
inclinations than their own : but 
then they do not decide from incli- 
nation ; they are wiser, and have 
more experience than me, and they 
judge coolly, and without Desire, 
what would be most fitting for me, 
according to all the circumstances 
of my education, the shew of my 
talents, and the fortune I may have 
to set out with in life. It is the no- 
velty of a sea life which gives it at- 
traction ; but novelty soon ceases to 
engage, and decreases in value, the 
longer we make our visit to it ; and 
then we afterwards wish that we had 
attended to something better for us, 
or more adapted to our situation/ 

" There are, however, many praise- 
worthy objects of desire, such as 

" A Desire to please God. 
c2 



64 

i . 
fc A Desire to improve in learning. 

" A Desire to excel in virtue or 
science, properly called emulation. 

" The first of these ought to be the 
great object of our lives : the second 
will be a lasting delight and profit 
to us ; it will always secure us a por- 
tion of respect in the world, and 
will stay by us, though by misfor- 
tune we should be stripped of all, 
and left to work for our bread : the 
third is a passion which makes the 
great man and the hero ; it made 
such a statesman as Charles Fox, of 
whom you have heard speak, and 
such a hero as Lord Nelson. 

" With these desires in your 
breast, poverty will stand no chance 
of keeping you under. The world, 
my dear children, is like a market- 
place, where many different persons 



65 
bring their wares, their industry, and 
their trinkets for sale. Those who 
have the best articles, or who are the 
best workmen, will find the readiest 
and most certain sale and profit or 
employ ; those who have more hum- 
ble talents, or wares of a worse qua- 
lity, are obliged to wait longer, and 
sell for less ; and such as have only 
trinkets to offer, find customers only 
by chance, and are never sure of a 
market. Last of all, the lazy beg- 
gar, who only comes into the market- 
place in expectation of getting a 
subsistence from the more indus- 
trious, as he has nothing to offer in 
exchange, meets little or no atten- 
tion, and hears only the just reproof 
of 4 Why don't you get some work 
to do ?' 

'J There are several objects of 
g3 



66 

Desire that must never be entertain- 
ed, and which are very bad and 
wicked ; among these are 

" The Desire. of wealth, when un- 
reasonable or unconscionable, called 
Avarice. 

"The Desire of obtaining any ad- 
vantage of another unfairly, called 
in the scripture, coveting our neigh- 
bours' goods. 

" The Desire of being great or 
ambitious. 

" There are others, which are those 
forbidden by the Ten Command- 
ments, and of which I need not 
speak. 

'* The Desire of wealth, called Ava- 
rice, is a most extraordinary passion, 
as it defeats the very end which it 
wishes to produce, an enjoyment of 
the rational pleasures and comforts 



67 

of life ; for the miser lays up hoard 
upon hoard, and still remains unsa- 
tisfied ; he punishes himself con- 
tinually ; he submits to the derision, 
the reproaches, and contempt of the 
world; he has no enjoyments, no 
friends ; and, besides, he suffers con- 
stant dread and apprehension of 
being robbed of his guineas : he 
suspects every body. Such a cha- 
racter we have in 

The Story of Old Alvarus, ike Miser. 

" Al varus was an old miser, who 
constantly kept his guineas in a bag, 
which he used to hide in the most se- 
cret place he could find in his apart- 
ments. 

" Alvarus had been so careful to 
lay by his store where no person 
would be able to find it and rob him 



6« 

of it, that he forgot where he had 
put it himself. 

$€ Alvarus searched every hole and 
corner that he could think of, with- 
out success: the bag was not to be 
found; but he knew that no one 
could have taken it from him, for 
not a creature had entered the house. 
Alvarus fumed and fretted himself 
ill; he went to his bed alone and 
disconsolate, for very few cared for 
Alvarus. 

ff At length it happened that some 
one knocked at the door of his hut; 
Alvarus could not rise to open it; 
but he called out, ' Whoever you are, 
lift up the latch and come in, for I 
am sick/ It was his little nephew 
Nicholas, whose father and mother 
were poor industrious people, and 
who had ofteji asked Alvarus to spare 



eg 

them a trifle, to put them into some 
little way of business, to make their 
way in the world ; but he had always 
refused them : he would not part 
with a sixpence. 

H The father and mother of Ni- 
cholas had, nevertheless, sent him to 
inquire after the health of his uncle : 
he was a fine little bov, with the co- 
lour of the carnation upon his cheeks, 
and with a brave open countenance. 

" The old man surveyed him from 
head to foot. c What, Nicholas,' 
cried he, c is it v you ? How are your 
father and mother? I am ill, Ni- 
cholas, very ill/ 

" Nicholas asked if he could do 
any thing for his uncle ? Alvarus 
began to reflect, ' I might as well/ 
said he to himself, ' have no wealth* 
if I am to suffer illness without help 



70 
or relief, and I shall perhaps die for 
want of medical assistance ; yet who 
can I trust to seek for this money ?' 
He looked again at Nicholas ; he saw 
honesty in his face — e This boy/' said 
he, ' knows nothing of the world. 
I think that I need not be afraid to 
trust him, Nicholas,, my dear Ni- 
cholas/ said he, ' I wish that you 
would seek for an old bag, which 
you will find in some corner or 
other; it is heavy, but what is in it 
is not of much use to any body, and 
you must not look into it upon any 
account/ Nicholas answered in a 
very artless manner, that he would 
not look into it for the world, if his 
uncle forbid it. c Well then/ said 
Alvarus, 'go and look all about, and 
in every corner, as I have occasion 
for it/ 



71 

" Nicholas, who was a very clever 
and persevering lad, searched place 
after place, until at length, in a dark 
hole under the sink, he found the 
bag, and carried it immediately to his 
uncle. Alvarus was quite delighted, 
when he saw the bag unopened — 
' That is a good boy/ said he ; c now 
then go for the doctor, and tell him 
to come to me, for that I am very 
sick indeed.' 

" Nicholas ran all the way for the 
doctor, and when he returned, it was 
but reasonable to expect that old 
Alvarus would have given him a tri- 
fle of money ; he however contented 
himself with giving him only thanks ; 
and Nicholas was going home when 
the doctor entered. 

" The doctor felt the miser's pulse, 
and found him in a very bad way—* 



72 

* I am afraid it is too late/ said be, 
c I should have been sent for before/ 
He moreover told Nicholas that his 
uncle could not be left. Nicholas 
therefore promised to return, as soon 
as he had made his father and mo- 
ther acquainted with the situation 
he had left him in ; but the miser ab- 
solutely forbid him to bring them 
with him. 

u Alvarus grew worse ; the doctor 
gave him medicines, but in vain ; 
when he .thought it proper to tell 
him, that there were no hopes of his 
recovery, and advised him to settle 
his affairs without delay. 

u Alvarus was very much affected 
at this news— 'What/ said he, 'have 
I been laying up hoard upon hoard 
only to leave it behind me ? what 
enjoyment have I had ? what delight 



73 

has this world. afforded me? I have 
been poor in the midst of riches., and 
have starved in abundance. I might 
have been happy myself, and I might 
have made others happy ; I have ne- 
glected the opportunity ; and before 
I have tasted refreshment, I expire 
on my journey/ 

" The doctor askefd the old miser 
again about his affairs — ' If I die/ 
said he, * I leave what little I have 
to this boy, my nephew Nicholas/ 
The doctor took his leave, and Al- 
varus addressed his nephew as fol- 
lows: — 'Nicholas/ said he, r take 
care of this bag for me; I shall fall 
asleep presently, for I feel heavy ; 
there is not any thing worth having 
in it ; it is full of rubbish; never* 
theless, some people would be base 
enough to wish to take it from me,* 



V Alvarus went info a sleep, frorrt 
which he never awoke again—Ni- 
cholas called to him— he did not 
answer. Nicholas r$n for his father 
and mother — they arrived,, but the 
miser was no more. Nicholas told 
them the story of the bag, which 
they opened, and found full of gui- 
neas. The doctor confirmed the 
story of Nicholas, and that the pro- 
perty was his right. The father and 
mother of Nicholas shed tears at the 
death of Alvarus; nevertheless they 
said, ' How good and wonderful is 
Providence ! It appeared only by 
chance that our son should happen 
to go on that day to inquire after 
his uncle, who had then mislaid his 
treasure. Providence has put it in 
its proper channel. Let us bury 
Alvarus with respect, and mourn not 



75 

so much that he is dead, as that when 
living, he had never enjoyed life/ 

" Nicholas succeeded to the wealth 
of his uncle, which was improved 
by the industry and care of his pa- 
rents ; and from being a poor lad,, 
Nicholas is now an opulent farmer/' 

" That old miser was a very foolish 
old man," said William, as soon as 
Mr. Willock had concluded the story, 
" Certainly he was/' answered Mr, 
Willock ; u he might have made him- 
self very comfortable, and yet have 
laid by sufficient to keep him far 
from the dangers of want in his old 
age; and that shows, my dear chil- 
dren, the difference between pru- 
dence or economy, and avarice:— 
prudence allows all reasonable en- 
joyments, but no extravagance or 
waste; and as the articles of plain 
h2 



76 

wholesome food/ refreshing drink, 
and neat decent cloathing/ do not 
require any great sacrifice of money, 
and are proper for us/ and as good 
management makes us as frugal as 
possible,, we cannot be much the 
poorer for those reasonable indi- 
gencies ; and all beyond, it is wise 
and necessary to lay by ; out of which, 
we ought, nevertheless, to spare a por- 
tion, such as we can afford, to the 
distrest. It is then that our prudent 
hours are blest by Providence, and 
the motive approved by the same Al- 
mighty who has taught the ant to 
provide for winter ; and indeed old 
age, my dear children, may properly 
be called the winter of life. 

" We will now/' said Mr. Willock, 
" consider the nature of the Desire 
by which men wish to obtain any 



77 
thing unfairly, or what is called co- 
veting our neighbours' goods. — 
There is not any Desire that can be 
more base or wicked than this, and 
it leads to the greatest crimes ; if ever 
you feel it in your bosoms, which I 
trust you never will, check it, my 
dear children, as beiag base, mean, 
unfair, unjust, and beneath your na- 
tures ; and be assured, that it is a 
Desire which in the end will never 
have success, as it is contrary to the 
commands of God, and below the 
honour and dignity of the human 
character. Your dear mamma can 
relate to you a very pretty story of 
the ill-success of such a desire, as well 
as of the folly of being too good- 
natured." Mrs. Willock, finding the 
eyes of all her little family imme- 

h3 



78 

diately turned towards her, began a§ 
follows : 

The Story of the Two Merchant? arid 
the Black Pebble. 

(c In the city of Peristan, which 
is a province of Cashmeer, in Hin- 
dostan, lived a merchant, named Bai- 
zeed; he was a very good young 
man, but was so generous and pro- 
digal of his money, and so very 
good-natured, that any body might 
get it from him ; and the patrimony 
he had received from his father was 
almost spent. As Baizeed was walk- 
ing one day through the streets of 
Peristan, he met an old man, with a 
small bag in his hand, who accosted 
him, and asked if he would choose 
to buy any pearls or precious stones 5 
]Baizeed had the cariosity or desire tq 



79 

look at them ; and the old merchant 
seated himself under the portico of 
a house, where he displayed his 
soods. Baizeed looked at them one 
by one; but his attention was chiefly 
taken up with a small black pebble, 
which had on it some marks of gold, 
resembling in form the rays of the 
sun. Baizeed inquired particularly 
about this stone, which the merchant 
told him was of considerable value, 
though it only appeared as a common 
black pebble ; that it was a talisman, 
invented by the magician Mahoud; 
and that in all cases of extremity or 
danger, it would give the owner the 
most faithful counsel of the good 
genii. Baizeed, on this, laid the 
pebble down, giving up all thoughts 
pf purchasing it, as he supposed 
jts price to be infinitely out of hi$ 






80 
reach. " I do not wish to inhance 
the value of the pebble/' said the 
old man ; " I only ask fifty gold mo- 
hurs for it." Baizeed assured him 
that he could not afford to give him 
half that money for it, and was go- 
ing away, when the old diamond 
merchant stopt him — " Well/' said 
he to Baizeed, a as you have taken 
such a mighty fancy to the pebble, 
you shall be welcome to have it on 
credit, and pay me when you may 
be able." Baizeed on this thanked 
the old man as politely as he could, 
and accepted the stone from his 
hands, when the old merchant ex- 
plained to him some characters which 
were on it, in the Hindoo language, 
and formed the following sentence-— 
• The rays of xvisdom. 9 

ic Baizeed, on his return home, 



81 

shewed the pebble to his wife Asee- 
cha, and was very eager to invite all 
his friends to shew them also the 
purchase he had been so lucky as to 
make, and invited them to a feast 
for that purpose. When Baizecd's 
friends were met together, one exa- 
mined it carefully, another liked its 
curious appearance, and a third wish- 
ed him to make an immediate ex- 
periment of its virtues. Baizeed 
was not long waiting an opportunity. 
One of his neighbours being en- 
gaged in a lawsuit, was very anxious 
to know what he should do in the 
affair, and intreated him to try the 
effect of the magic pebble. 

" Baizeed took a small flint in his 
hand, and, upon striking it against 
the stone, at the first bio w r , the liquid 
fire .came forth from it, and running 



82 

upon the ground, immediately form- 
ed the sentence of c Truth. 9 

" The counsel which the talisman 
gave was attended to by the neigh- 
bour of Baizeed, and by following 
which, he got well through his dif- 
ficulty. 

" Numerous were the applications 
Baizeed received from different per- 
sons to lend them the black pebble ; 
and all his friends were so kind, and 
appeared so grateful, that he could 
not find it in his heart to refuse them ; 
but what was the most extraordinary 
was, that although Baizeed was tho- 
roughly sensible of the virtues of 
the pebble, he scarcely ever made 
use of it himself, but it was always 
at the service of others, without any 
return or recompence. 

c( In about three or four, years 



S3 
after Baizeed had come into possesr 
sion of the pebble, what with ne~ 
glecting his own affairs, and attending 
to the frequent solicitations of others 
about theirs, Baizeed began to find 
himself very much reduced in cir- 
cumstances; and in addition to this 
folly of attempting to oblige every 
body, he was naturally of a gay and 
cheerful disposition, and was con- 
stantly giving entertainments, for 
the sake of having the society of 
his friends. 

" Among others who had the free 
use of the talisman, was a neighbour 
of Baizeed's, named Daoud, who had 
always been welcome to his house, 
and who he had done every thing to 
serve ; in short, Daoud had as much 
use of the pebble as himself; he had 
it upon every occasion he wished, 



84 

and always smiled so graciously, and 
professed so much friendship to 
Baizeed, that it was impossible to 
refuse him. 

" Baizeed's wife Aseecha loved 
her husbafid very much, and fre^ 
quently entreated him to be more 
careful of the valuable treasure he 
had, and to turn the magic pebble 
to advantage ; but unhappily he ne- 
glected her counsel ; and at length, 
what with the waste of time, and 
seeing company to show off the ta-* 
lisman, his situation became despe- 
rate ; when he thought it best to call 
on his friend Daoud, to explain to 
him his circumstances, and to consult 
what was best to be done, as he was 
afraid his creditors would take the 
pebble from him. Daoud begged 
hi tti not to- despond, and assured hini 



85 

that he would take care of the talis- 
man, if he was afraid of any mischief 
happening to him. Baizeed put the 
stone in his hands, requiring him, in 
the most solemn manner, to make 
use of it for his wife and family ; 
offering him, at the same time, a rea- 
sonable share of that valuable trea- 
sure for his trouble. 

" Daoud promised to do according 
to the wishes of Baizeed, who retired 
to a small village near the fountain 
of Shookroach, whose waters bestow 
peace, leaving Daoud in possession 
of the talisman. 

" Baizeed waited many days pa- 
tiently, in hopes of seeing his friend 
Daoud with a supply of money, for 
his wife Aseecha was very distressed, 
and his children had had nothing to 
live upon but a small bag of rice 
i 



86 
and a few dried fishes, which were al- 
most gone. Daoud, however, never 
came near Baizeed ; and presently 
he was informed that he had got 
into his house, and had made himself 
acquainted with all his friends and 
creditors, and that he was turning the 
talisman to his own advantage solely, 
Baizeed began now to blame his 
folly, for having intrusted the only 
valuable he had left to so sordid a 
wretch. 

" Baizeed went to Daoud, to com- 
plain of his ill treatment ; but that 
wicked wretch insisted he owed him 
more money than the pebble was 
worth ; and Baizeed was too poor to 
get redress. 

* At length, when Baizeed had 
given himself up to despair, and was 
sitting at his door in a pensive atti- 



87 

tude, he saw the old diamond mer~ 
chant who sold him the pebble ap- 
proach. Baizeed was quite distressed 
what he should say to him ; but 
thought, very properly, that the 
truth was the best ; he therefore 
told him the whole story of his im- 
prudence ; ' Well/ cried the old 
man, r you have suffered sufficiently 
Z for your good-nature; though you 
£ have lost the talisman by your folly, 
a the good * Bramah will not punish 
V you too severely. Come with me, 
£ and we will go disguised as two f 
Calenders to the house of Daoud/ 

" Baizeed prepared to follow the 
old maB ; and at length having pro- 
cured the dresses of Calenders, they 

* The Eastern name for God. 
f Wandering -Mahometan monks. 

i2 



88 

set out on their journey, and arrived 
at the house of Daoud, as he was 
seated at the head of his table, feast- 
ing with the great men of Peristan. 
The Calenders, according to the cus- 
tom in the East, were invited to take 
refreshment ; and Baizeed seated 
himself at the lower end of the ta- 
ble of his perfidious friend. 

" After dinner, Daoud began to 
speak of the virtues of the talisman; 
and the Viceroy of the Sultan Sha- 
habeddeen, who was present, was 
desirous that he should display its 
wonders before him, Daoud called 
for the pebble, and struck it with the 
flint ; but the liquid flame did not 
issue from it; he tried again and 
again ; but it was all in vain. The 
Viceroy, who considered that Daoud 
fcad imposed upon him, was highly 



89 

incensed; and ordered his black eu- 
nuchs, who were in waiting, to inflict 
the punishment of the bowstring. — 
It was in vain that he supplicated ; 
the Viceroy commanded that he 
should die, unless he could, within 
ten minutes, produce the sentence 
of truth from the talisman. Daoud 
attempted once more, but all was 
fruitless, when the old man took up 
the pebble, and striking it with the 
flint, the flame immediately issued, 
and formed a sentence on the ground 
— c I am useless to the wicked.' 

%t On this, the Viceroy, who was 
the more enraged, demanded to know 
of Daoud the history of the talisman, 
and how he came by it ? That wick- 
ed wretch, however, told a lie to 
excuse himself. 

( The Viceroy was so dissatisfied 



90 

with the answers of Daoud, that he 
demanded of the old Calender that 
he should obtain again the sentence 
of truth : The old man obeyed, when 
the talisman produced the words — 
€ The saying of Daoud is not true; I 
telong to Baizeed/ 

Baizeed, at the desire of the old 
man, now threw off the dress of the 
Calender, and confronted the wicked 
Daoud, who being unable to say a 
word in his defence, was instantly 
strangled by the eunuchs. 

$t The Viceroy ordered the pebble 
to be restored to Baizeed, who re- 
turned home, transported with joy 
3t having found his precious talisman. 
' et As soon as Baizeed entered the 
door of his house, he endeavoured 
to obtain the sentence of wisdom 
from the magic pebble; but it only 



91 

produced the words — 'I am useless 
to the imprudent* 

" Baizeed was again in anguish and 
despair, when the old man entered, 
and told him that the virtue of the 
talisman would not return to it again 
until he had, by hard labour, rubbed 
the pebble so bright, that the rays 
which had disappeared should again- 
become visible. Eaizeed bore this 
disappointment very patiently, and 
returned home to his wife Aseecha, 
when he set to work every day rubb- 
ing the pebble, but no rays appeared. 
At length, after a little, time, he be- 
gai> just to see a glimpse of them, 
and by persevering, they were once 
more restored. Baizeed now sum- 
moned his friends to a feast, at which 
they appeared again very readily; 
but when they required the counsel 



92 

of the talisman, Baizeed demanded 
from them a recompence for the be- 
nefit they would receive; in conse- ' 
quence of which, he got several 
large sums of money ; and having 
found the old man, offered to pay 
fcim the fifty gold mohurs, when the 
oldmerchant^said, c Iam richly repaid 
by your being sensible of the value 
of the pebble. My son, the mighty 
Bramah is well pleased when he ob- 
serves in his children an ingenuous 
heart, and kind disposition ; but dan- 
gerous even is the love of our fellow 
creatures, if we are weak enough* to 
yield to the sweet voice of deceit. 
JSaizeed was tried with the magic 
pebble, and he squandered away its 
blessings. The wicked Daoud, whose 
imagination was at work to obtain 
the goods of Baizeed, was made the 



93 
instrument for punishing thy weak- 
ness; but he was to become an ex- 
ample also, that vice never prospers, 
The magic pebble lost its power in 
his hands, and the object of his co- 
vetousness was the cause of his death/ 

" As the old man spoke, Baizeed 
observed that rays of celestial flame 
surrounded his head, and that his 
garment was changed into a robe of 
the purest white. The place was 
filled with the fragrance of myrrh, 
aloes, sandal- wood, the jessamine 
flower and the rose. 

*? Baizeed fell prostrate on his 
face; it was the good genius Zemrud, 
who had appeared as the old mer- 
chant. ' Blessed/ said he, f are the 
good, and powerful are those who 
trust in Bramah/ With these words 
the genius disappeared, and Baizeed 



94 

returned home to his faithful Asee- 
cha, satisfied of the goodness of Pro- 
vidence, and resolved never again to 
forfeit the blessings of the talisman/* 

" The desire of being great, or 
what is called ambition, is laudable, 
as long as the means resorted to to 
satisfy it are just and fair, and it is 
then a blessing; but becomes a curse, 
the instant we have recourse to base 

or improper means. But," said 

Mr. Willock, " let us see what is the 
next picture. What have we here ?*' 

" It is a very pleasant face," said 
John.— « It is," said Mr. Willock, 

JOY with TRANQUILLITY. 

" You will observe here, that very 
little alteration is remarked in the 
face of those who feel within them- 
selves the sweetness of Jog. The 



9^y 




95 

forehead is serene ; the eyebrows 
without motion, elevated in the mid- 
dle ; the eye pretty open, and with 
a laughing air ; the eyeball lively 
and shining ; the corners of the 
mouth turn up a little; the com- 
plexion lively ; the cheeks and lips 
red. 

" Joy is a delightful sensation, and 
gives health to the body as well as to 
the mind; when we feel joyful, with 
what alacrity, what spirit, do we 
move and act ! It is Joy that yen 
taste of, when the time arrives for 
you to return home from school, to 
see your friends in vacation. When 
Joy is felt, the mind is occupied with 
every thing that is pleasant; all care 
is for the time obliterated from your 
recollection ; you jump, and dance, 
and sing, and spring about like young 



fawns, from place to place. But 
this is not Joy with Tranquillity, like 
that in the picture. Joy with Tran- 
quillity is more lasting, andis less vio- 
lent. I will attempt to describe the 
passion to you by an example. 

The Story of Matthieu and Gerrard, 
the two Fishermen, who each found 
a treasure. 

cc Two fishermen, named Matthieu 
and Gerrard, who lived in a small 
village near the Mediterranean, and 
who had each of them large families, 
and were very poor, were out one day 
drawing their nets, when one of 
them, Gerrard, called out to the 
other, that he had drawn ashore a 
small casket, which was extremely 
heavy ; and he begged the other to 
assist him to force it open, when he 



97 

found it full of precious stones, care- 
fully inclosed in cotton. The fisher- 
man who had found 'the treasure, 
very fairly and justly told the other 
that he should go shares; and over- 
joyed, ran home directly to his wife, 
to tell her the good news. The other 
fisherman, who was older and more 
careful, staid to put his nets in order 
before he followed, and was very 
kindly doing the same office for his 
friend, when he discovered another 
casket among the meshes of the net, 
which his comrade had overlooked, 
full of the like treasure, and which 
he put in his pocket. 

" When the old fisherman returned 
to the village, which was no great 
way from the sea-shore, he found 
the house of his comrade surrounded 
by people. In short, poor Gerrard's 

K 



98 

rapture had occasioned him to tell 
every creature he met of his good 
fortune, and they had followed him 
in a mass. One gave him a piece of 
advice ; another put in a claim for 
favour; a third offered to get him a 
market for the diamonds of a friend. 
In short, he was almost torn to pieces 
by the officious kindness of his neigh- 
bours ; and in his perplexity, he sold 
his treasure for less than half its va- 
lue, to an old Jew, who, on hearing 
the news, had hastened all the way 
from Marseilles to the spot, to make 
a good bargain. 

" The old fisherman said nothing 
about his luck until night, when he 
was at supper with his wife ; and she 
being a prudent woman, though she 
felt a great deal of joy that her dear 
children would be better cloathed 



99 
and fed, yet it was Joy with Tran- 
quillity. They neither of them suf- 
fered their good success to run away 
with their reason. It was therefore 
determined between themselves, that 
Matthieu should go the next day to 
Marseilles, where dwelt a respectable 
Armenian merchant, and get a fair 
price from him for the precious 
stones he had had the luck to find. 

" The next day, the old fisherman 
set out on his journey, without say- 
ing a word to any body, and returned 
home laden with louisd'^rs, in addi- 
tion to the small sum which was the 
moiety of what the other fisherman 
had honestly shared with him. 

u In a very few months it hap- 
pened, that the younger fisherman, 
Gerrard, owing to his excess of joy, 
which made him insensible of what 
k2 



100 

he was about,, and the folly of his 
young wife, who spent a great deal 
in dress, while he was giving, lend- 
ing, and throwing away his money, 
was reduced at length to poverty,and 
had nothing left to do but to take 
to business again. 

" He was -lamenting one morning 
Dot having sufficient to purchase nets, 
and was mending the old ones to go 
out a fishing, when his neighbour 
Matthieu came to the gate. ' I 
thought/ cried he, ' that you had 
left off fishing, and that you lived 
upon the interest of the money you 
got for your pearls and diamonds; 
or, perhaps, you are going out for 
pleasure/ — c Alas/ cried Gerrard, 
€ it is not so ; I have given away and 
spent all that I had/— c Well, but/) 
said he, f those you have done spr- 



101 

vice to will never let you want a little 
money to purchase nets; they have 
had plenty from you/ — ' I have but 
little hopes of them/ answered Ger- 
rard. — c Well/ said the old fisherman, 
' at any rate, give them the trial ; 
invite all these your neighbours and 
friends to a feast, and after they have 
regaled themselves, I will open the 
whole business of your necessities, 
and ask them to subscribe to put you 
into business again/ Gerrard fol- 
lowed the advice of his neighbour, 
and a feast was prepared, at which 
every one took care to be present* 
After dinner was over, the old fisher- 
man opened the business, and asked 
each of them to subscribe a some- 
thing ; but they had all of them an 
excuse ready. c Well/ cried he, 
k3 



102 
*>in that case, I must do all by my- 
self/ when he pulled out two large 
bags full of louis d'ors, which he 
opened before them, and placed one 
of them before Gerrard. c Now, 
sirs/ said Matthieu, turning to the 
guests, ■ we will not trouble you any 
further ; we shall not want your assis- 
tance to count them out this time/ 

" The guests departed one after 
another, not a little chagrined at this 
unexpected turn ; and Matthieu ex- 
plained to Gerrard that the money 
was his right ; that he had kept it 
for him, that it might not fall into 
such bad hands as his former treasure. 
All now was joy, but it was Joy with 
Tranquillity ; and Gerrard, delighted 
,*vith the wisdom, as well as with the 
honesty of his friend, begged him to 
keep it for him, and that he would 



103 
draw for what he might have occa- 
sion. 

, u Matthieu and Gerrard continued 
neighbours and friends; their little 
fortunes increased ; and at length 
their children intermarried, to the 
satisfaction of the old people, who* 
undisturbed by any excess of passion, 
felt only Joy with tranquillity." 

" Oh dear ! what a funny face !" 
cried Henry, as Mr. Willock turned 
over the leaf. 

"It is, my dear," said he, "the 
face of 

LAUGHTER. 

u Laughter is produced by joy 
mixed with surprise, the eyebrows 
rise towards the middle of the eye, 
and bend down towards the side of 
the nose. The eves are almost shut, 



104 

and sometimes appear wet, or shed 
tears, which make no alteration in 
the face. The mouth, half open, 
shews the teeth ; the corners of the 
jnouth drawn back, cause a wrinkle 
in the cheeks, which appear so swell- 
ed as in some measure to hide the 
eyes; the nostrils are open, and all 
the face is of a red colour. Laughter 
is at all limes ungraceful, therefore 
you will observe, that vulgar people 
are most addicted to it: well-bred 
persons manage this passion better; 
they seldom do any thing more than 
smile. Yet at times, it will happen 
that something we meet with is so 
truly ridiculous or comical, that we 
cannot by any means help laughing. 
There are, however, some persons 
who are so much of idiots, that they 
will laugh at the most trilling thing 



105 

in the world ; of this description 

^vere 

- ■ . • - - .. ■/ ■ 

The Family of the Gobblegruels, 

" Lord Gobblegruel, who was very 
rich, had arrived^at that title purely 
by having done some service to the 
government as a contractor. His 
lordship had bat very few ideas 
beyond a common sum in- arithmetic. 
My lady Gobblegruel was just as ig- 
norant, only much more proud and 
affected, though, to tell the honest 
truth, she was originally his lord- 
ship's father's cook, 

" There was a numerous family of 
them. There was his lordship, the 
right honourable lady Gobblegruel, 
the honourable Master Thomas Gob- 
blegruel^ and the honourable Miss 
Boadigea Gobblegruel, 



106 

44 You will wonder, my dear chil- 
dren, that there should be such cha- 
racters as these among persons of 
rank ; and the truth is, that, gene- 
rally speaking, in this country, per- 
sons of rank are persons of educa- 
tion, of good sense, and of elegant 
and refined manners; yet here and 
there, up starts a peer without po- 
liteness, and a baron without brains. 

" To proceed then — the honour- 
able master Gobblegruel was what 
some coarse peoplewould havecalled 
a natural; at anv rate, he most cer- 
tainly was a natural curiosity. Master 
Gobblegruei's whole pleasure and 
employment was driving pigs : and 
to be sure, no salesman in Smithfield 
market understood pigs better; he 
could tell you whether a pig with a 
curly tail was better than a pig who 



107 

had not a curly tail, or than one that 
had no tail at all ; but what was a 
more excellent accomplishment in 
our little master was, that he could 
squeak as naturally as that animal ; 
and which species of entertainment 
being according to the taste of the 
family, he was often called upon l?y 
the right honourable lady Gobble- 
gruel to perform for the amusement 
of the right honourable lord Gobble- 
gruel in the drawing-room. (Henry 
could scarcely refrain from laughing ) . 
" Master Gobblegruel was not only 
one of the greatest idiots, but also 
one of the greatest gluttons in the 
world ; he was formed very much 
like a pig himself — I mean one that 
was well fattened ; for he was nearly 
as thick as he was long ; his cheeks 
were so plump and round, that they 



108 

almost hid his eyes, which were very 
small ; but master Gobblegruel had 
another extraordinary accomplish- 
ment — he could perform Punch to 
the life, which he used to do in the 
housekeeper's room, to great audi- 
ences of the servants, and with pro- 
digious applause. It was really very 
amusing to see the son of a noble- 
man with a short stick in his hand, 
knocking, as he pretended, his wife 
Joan on the head, squeaking toote, 
toote, toote, and nodding and winking 
exactly like his famed original. — 
(Henry could not resist Laughter 
any longer). 

"The honourable master Gobble- 
gruel was so ungraceful at table, that , 
be disgusted every body ; you might 
see him take up the bone of; a fowl, 
which he would gnaw and jsuck .with 



109 
so much avidity, that the grease 
would run down the sides of his 
mouth, into which he would also 
constantly put his knife instead of 
his fork ; and when he drank, you 
might see the greater part of his face 
through the glass. 

" One day in particular, master 
Gobblegruel made a more than com- 
monly ridiculous figure ; he had 
got the end of a drumstick of a 
fowl in his mouth, which upon being 
reminded by some person present 
was vulgar, he transfixed immedi- 
ately between his teeth, sitting bolt 
upright, and grinning like his ho- 
nourable father's pug-dog, to the in- 
finite amusement of all the servants. 
The young gentleman would no^ 
however part with the bone. ( Hsnry 
burst into a fit of Laughter,) 
i. 



110 

if I must now/' said Mr. Willock, 
" for the benefit of the young ladies, 
describe the honourable Miss Boa- 
dicea Gobblegruel, who in shape 
and figure was the counterpart of her 
honourable brother. 

cc Miss Boadicea never looked at 
any thing ; she always stared ; she 
was excessively vulgar, and was ig- 
norant, in spite of education. She 
was, too, always laughing ; and when 
she did laugh, she might be heard 
from the drawing-room into the 
kitchen ; nor was there half a note 
difference between the laugh of Miss 
Boadicea and the laugh of the cook- 
maid. Miss Boadicea w T as nearly as 
coarse in her mannersras her brother, 
'but much more ill-natured and sati- 
rical. Master Gobblegruel would 
not offend- any body, unless they 



Ill 

spoke against pigs ; and Boa- 

dicea had a constant antipathy to 
merit in distress,, or meanness in ap- 
parel ; and though she sometimes 
deigned to assist, it was always done 
with the features of pity proceeding 
from contempt : but let us have 
done with this disagreeable monster; 
I see, my dear Caroline, that you 
already despise her. Another laugh- 
ing character calls our attention. -~ 
I will describe him in the following 
story. 

The History of Charles Banter. 

" Charles was the son of a gen- 
tleman of very moderate circum- 
stances, who had, however, found 
means to send him to Eton College, 
where he distinguished himself very 
early, not only by being the best 



112 

scholar of his age, but one of the 
best-natured boys. When Charles 
was fag, he went through that ser- 
vice without a murmur ; he was al- 
ways as merry as a grig. If his 
schoolfellows beat him, he only 
laughed all the time; in short, 
Charles was what they called a fine 
fellow : but he had a very great 
fault, and that was an inclination to 
entertain himself continually with 
that disagreeable amusement of 
schoolboys, called quizzing ; he used 
to quiz the master, quiz the mis- 
tress, quiz the inhabitants, and quiz 
the strangers. Charles, -therefore, 
though he was admired as a clever 
boy, was not loved, and indeed had 
many enemies ; for there are very 
few people who like to be laughed 
at, Charles Banter's propensity was 



113 

often attended with disagreeable con- 
sequences, and was a grand obstacle 
to his success in life. Charles .was 
at home one vacation, when a distant 
relation, who happened to wear a 
wig, was on a visit to his father. — 
The old gentleman took particular 
notice of Charles; and having no 
children of his own, had left him a 
very handsome fortune. „ Charles 
ought, you will say, to have had a 
little prudence, but he could not re- 
sist the propensity to quiz. The 
wig was the object of his amuse- 
ment ; and he contrived one day, 
before the old gentleman put it on, 
to slip into his room, and pepper 
and salt all the curls; so that when 
he came down to dinner, he set t! e 
whole party at table sneezing. At 
length th* joke was discovered; and 
l3 



114 

as nobody was present on whom the 
slightest suspicion of such an inde- 
cency could fall, except Charles, the 
question was put to him, .and the 
colour in his face pleaded guilty ; 
in short, he confessed the joke; for 
Charles, to speak fairly of him, dis- 
dained to tell a lie. His father, who 
was not a very sensible man, was in- 
discreet enough to join in the laugh, 
and to take no farther notice of the 
affair. It was not so with the old 
gentleman; he never visited the same 
table afterwards, and to his will added 
the following codicil: — ' To master 
Charles Banter, for the seasoning of 
my wig, Jive shilli?igs. > 

" You will see by this event, my 
dear children, that it is your interest 
as well as duty,, to pay respect to age; 
for old people can serve you by 



115 

their experience, even if they have 
not money to leave you ; you may 
fly to them for advice, and the atten- 
tion you pay them is never lost. 
But there is a still worse character, 
and that is him who enjoys mischief, 
and who takes a pleasure in cruelty; 
he laughs too, but his laugh is the 
smile of malice. Such a wicked 
character was Tom Worry, who was 
the son of a gentleman, and who had 
begun very early to make war against 
the poor harmless animals and insects 
who came unfortunately in his way. 
To torment and to destroy was his 
whole delight ; and a poor innocent 
cat was the particular object of his 
cruelty ; and, what is very extraor- 
dinary, it was to the having hunted 
one of these poor animals into a 
cellar, that he owed all the scratches 



116 

he afterwards received from ill-for- 
tune; for while he was .amusing 
himself in this way,, he was joined 
by a vulgar boy ten times more wick- 
ed than himself, and who exulted 
with him in the distress of poor 
puss: this boy ingratiated himself 
into his favour, prevailed upon him to 
run away from his friends, led him in- 
to a great many very serious scrapes, 
and was at length his utter ruin.— 
Surely, my dear children, we need 
only to reflect for a moment on the 
nature of the pain we inflict, to 
turn from wanton cruelty : how 
should we like to be hunted into a 
corner, by creatures stronger than 
ourselves, and pelted by them with 
stones and dirt ? we should think it 
very hard usage. If any ill accident 
assails, how altered are our features, 



117 

how wretched, how distressed do we 
appear, what agony do our features 
express at the pain of a broken or 
dislocated limb ! Let us see if Le 
Brun has described this sensation — 
yes, here it is. 

ACUTE PAIN. 

" See how the eyebrows approach 
each other, and rise towards the mid- 
dle; the eyeball is hid under the eye- 
brow ; the nostrils rise, and make a 
wrinkle in the cheeks; the mouth 
half opens, and draws back; all the 
parts of the face are agitated, in pro- 
portion to the violence of the pain. 

"Itfiirik, my dear children, that 
I can tell you a story, which wilJ, in 
its incidents, comprise several of the 
situations and passions which follow, 



118 

in this book of Le Brun. I had it 
from a French lady, and it is called 

The Mother and her little Family. 

" A scholar of the University of 
Basle, named Henry D'Orange, and 
who was the only son of the rich 
Marquis D'Orange, was riding one 
day towards a small town, when, as 
he approached, he observed a great 
number of people gathered toge- 
ther, at the end of a narrow street. 
The scholar rode up to them, to in- 
quire into the cause of the tumult, 
when one of the persons, an honest 
shopkeeper, who happened to be 
standing on the step of his door, 
made answer, c Ah, sir, a poor un- 
happy woman is the cause of all this 
disturbance.' — ' How so ?' said the 



119 

scholar. — ' You don't know, sir,' re- 
turned the honest merchant, ■* how 
well this good creature deserves the 
pity of the poor people who are 
her neighbours, and who would wil- 
lingly go to the greatest extremities 
to relieve her, did she not herself 
forbid it, and entreat them not to 
interfere with the course of justice.' 
— c I cannot yet comprehend you,' 
answered the young scholar; c what 
has happened to her ?' — c Many mis- 
fortunes, sir, one after another.-— 
She is a widow; she has six chil- 
dren ; she lost her husband after he 
had been confined a year to his bed. 
I think, sir, that I see him now; his 
eyebrows drawn together ; the eye 
as if fixed on some object ; the nos> 
triis raised, making a wrinkle in his 
worn cheeks ; the mouth half open- 



120 
ed and drawn back ; and every part 
agitated in proportion to what he 
suffered.* 

" Behold/' cried Mr. Willock, " the 
picture. 

SIMPLE BODILY PAIN. 

"But to go on with the story — 
6 So, sir/ continued the merchant, 
' the poor young man died; and in 
about two months after that event, 
his widow was delivered of her sixth 
child. These misfortunes were on 
the heels of each other ; and the ex- 
pences of interring her husband 
swallowed up the whole of her little 
money. Her landlord, a man of a 
hard heart, and cruel disposition, 
would not give her time to pay a 
twelvemonth's rent, which was in 
arrear. It is only fifteen days since 



121 
he told her, with the most savage 
cruelty, that if she did not pay the 
money in a few days, that he would 
seize her furniture, and turn her in- 
to the street. He has kept his word; 
to-day the huissiers or bailiffs have 
surrounded the house of this poor 
woman, and have taken every thing, 
even to the cradle of the poor in- 
nocent at her breast. The neighbours 
having found out what was going on, 
assembled together immediately, and 
would probably have soon put an 
end to the power of these harpies of 
justice, if this good creature had not 
entreated them to desist. Ah, sir/ 
continued he, ' this is but a poor 
place ; we are all distressed here, 
or she should not want assistance.' 
The young stranger listened to the 
narrative with great attention, and 

M 



J 29 

begged him to proceed. c You may- 
judge, sir, how much this amiable 
woman is beloved, and she deserves 
it all. In her better days, she never 
heard of distress without endeavour- 
ing to relieve it; if any one of her 
neighbours was sick, she was always 
their nurse; and she attended to 
these duties without neglecting her 
aged father, who is still alive, though 
near an hundred years of age, or for- 
saking the attention due to her little 
ones. During the lifetime of her 
husband, who was a dealer in stuffs 
from Marseilles, all that she could save 
beyond what she thought superfluous 
to r their situation, she used to bestow 
in charity upon her poor neigh- 
bours/ 

" Henry, who was so much affect- 
ed that the tears ran from his eyes, 



123 

now dismounted,, and in an animated 
tone desired the shopkeeper to 
show him the way to the dwelling of 
the poor woman. • Conduct me/ 
said he, ' to the house of this re- 
spectable widow, who deserves a 
palace instead of a prison, and who 
ought to find a protector in every 
friend of humanity/ Such was the 
noble appearance of Henry, and the 
generous expression of his counte- 
nance, that the crowd instantly made 
way for him to pass through to the 
dwelling of the widow. 

" Henry presently arrived at the 
habitation of misery, and which had 
been but a little time before the abode 
of conjugal felicity. He was struck 
with astonishment at the scene which 
presented itself; he found the inter- 
esting female, of whom he had 
M 2 



124 

heard so much, surrounded by her 
little ones, who were crying, while 
she was endeavouring to console and 
comfort them with every mark of 
tenderness and affection, regardless 
of her own distress. 

** Let us see, my dear children, 
if we can find the picture of this 
good mother. It is — it is the face of 

SADNESS. 

" See her full of anxiety and sor- 
row, yet calm and resigned to the 
will of Heaven. Notice the dejec- 
tion ; the eyebrows rise towards the 
middle of the forehead more than 
towards the cheeks; the eyeball ap- 
pears full of perturbation ; the 
white of the eye is turned yellow ; 
the eyelids are drawn down, and a 
little swelled: all about the eye is 



// 




125 

livid ; the nostrils are drawn down- 
wards; the mouth is half open, and 
the corners are drawn down : the 
head carelessly leaning on one of 
the. shoulders; the face is of a lead 
colour; the lips pale, 

" Who/' my dear children, te can 
view this amiable countenance, with- 
out feeling interested for the object, 
a mother, and in sorrow — a mother 
in want— a mother in despair. 

€i The poor dear woman seems to 
be without the most distant prospect 
of relief; without the most remote 
chance of meeting with a friend ; 
without means of extricating herself 
and her little ones from ruin ; yet 
she ought not to despair, for Provi- 
dence* when none appears, can find 
itself a way. , 

" There were two of those un-r 
m3 



126 

happy beings in the world, whose 
profits and enjoyments arise out of 
the distresses of their fellow-crea- 
tures — two huissiers, as they are 
called in France, or what we call 
sheriff's officers ; yet these people, 
my dear children, are necessary 
in the community, to preserve pro- 
perty, and to cause us to act with 
justice to each other ; and when their 
unpleasant office is performed with 
decency and mildness, they do not 
deserve disapprobation. It happen- 
ed, however, that the two officers 
who were in the poor widow's room 
were of that description who debase 
the very nature of man, by rapacity 
and cruelty, and who, hardened by 
constant scenes of misery, commit 
every possible outrage on the dis- 
tressed and friendless. 



127 

fc See them busily employed., tak- 
ing an inventory of the little effects 
of the poor widow, with an unfeel- 
ing composure, that disgraced even 
their profession. Here is the por- 
trait of one of them, full of officious 
consequence and contempt for po- 
verty. To the applications which are 
made to him by the poor widow for 
lenity, his hard inflexible features 
present only the face of 

SCORN; 

and here are its lively and strong fea- 
tures. The forehead wrinkled; the 
eyebrows knit; the side of it next 
the nose drawn down, and the other 
side rising very much ; the eye is 
Tery open, and the eyeball is in the 
middle; the nostrils rise and draw 
towards the eyes, and make wrinkles 



128 

in the cheeks ; the mouth shuts, its 
sides sinking down, and the under 
lip is pushed out beyond the upper 
one. With what detestation do we 
view such a face as this ! 

u The scholar, mute with astonish- 
ment and terror, was some time be- 
fore he addressed these harpies. He 
gazed first at the widow, whose in- 
teresting countenance engaged his 
attention, then at the children about 
her, and then on the officers — ' How 
much, sir/ cried he to one of them 
who was writing at a table, ' does 
the debt amount to?' — 'I should 
like to know what business it i6 of 
yours,' answered the bailiff, in a surly 
tone,still continuingto write, without 
deigning even to look at the person 
who addressed him. ' You are mighty 
curious/ continued he ; f what busi- 



129 

ness is it of yours how much the wo- 
man owes ? I suppose that you wont 
pay the money for her, will you ?' 

u The scholar's attention was now 
taken off' by a heavy sigh, which he 
found proceeded from the breast of 
an aged man, who was seated in an 
old elbow chair by the fireside. It 
was the poor widow's father, mourn- 
ing for her sorrows, and grieving for 
her distress; for as far as respected 
himself, he had but little care> He 
was near eighty years of age. Here 
is the countenance of the poor old 
man ; it is the face of 

WEEPING. 

41 The alterations that Weeping cau-_ 
ses are very strongly marked. The 
eyebrows sink down towards the 
middle of the forehead : the eyes 



130 

are almost closed, wet and drawn 
down towards the cheeks; the nos- 
trils swelled ; the muscles and veins 
of the forehead appear; the mouth 
is shut, and the sides of it are drawn 
down, making wrinkles in the cheeks; 
the under lip, pushed out, presses the 
upper one ; the face is wrinkled and 
contracted ; its colour is red, espe- 
cially about the eyebrows, the eyes, 
the nose, and the cheeks. 

" Is it not a pity, my dear children, 
that the latter vears of a °;ood old 
man like this should be disturbed 
with grief — that an old man should 
weep ? The young scholar thought 
so too, for he sighed at this scene of 
accumulated distress; but his atten- 
tion was soon awakened to another 
object. One of the officers (for 
they were determined to seize every 



131 

thing in the room ) took a little sleep- 
ing infant from its cradle, and laid 
it rudely on the floor, snatching away 
at the same time the clothes on which 
it had been laid. 

" Henry was rouzed with indigna- 
tion at this brutal conduct, and stood 
in need of all his moderation to pre- 
vent his instantly giving the wretch 
the chastisement he deserved ; but 
he restrained his passion, and con- 
tented himself with throwing his 
purse on the table, demanding again, 
in a loftv tone, the amount of the 
debt? The sight of the gold pro- 
duced an instantaneous effect on 
the mind of the principal of the 
officers, and which discovered itself 
as promptly in his face; he replied 
in a more civil tone, that ten louis 
was the amount of the sum demanded 



132 

for the rent and expences. Henry 
ordered him immediately to prepare 
a receipt, which he did. 

c% When the money was paid, our 
young noble scholar exultingly lifted 
the little infant from the floor, and 
replaced it in the cradle. 

" Henry stood a minute over the 
child, which smiled as if conscious 
of its protector's presence. Henry 
surveyed its features as it lay. Let 
us seek for his countenance at the 
time. Are not these, my dear chil- 
dren, his features ? is not this the de- 
lightful countenance, the beauteous 
face of 

COMPASSION ? 

" The lively attention to the mis- 
fortunes of another, which is called 
Compassion, causes the eyebrows to 



133 

sink towards the middle of the fore- 
head ; the eyeball to be fixed upon 
the object; the sides of the nostrils 
next the nose, to be a little elevated, 
making wrinkles in the cheeks; the 
mouth to be open ; the upper lip to 
be lifted upland thrust forward; the 
muscles, and all the parts of the face 
sinking down, and turning towards 
the object which cause the passion. 

** Yes, this is indeed the portrait 
of the scholar looking at the infant 
in the cradle. What an assemblage 
of the noblest sentiments of the hu- 
man mind produce Compassion — love, 
tenderness and care for the object — 
self is for the time totally forgotten. 
How different, my dear children, is 
this face from that of the surly 
bailiff! 

N 



134 

Ct The officers now took their leave, 
%vith each a servile bow, when the 
poor widow, overcome by the kind- 
ness and' generosity of the young 
scholar, fell upon her knees, and in- 
vited her little children to do the 
like, that they might thank God for 
having sent an angel to their suc- 
cour ; while the old man, who was 
sitting by the fireside, lifted up his 
hands in a silent prayer to Heaven, 
and wept for joy. 

et The young scholar embraced the 
mother and all her little ones, among 
whom he generously distributed the 
remainder of the louis in his purse, 
and then took his leave, promising 
to see them again very soon. 

" Henry mounted his horse amidst 
the acclamations of the people, who 
had surrounded the house, and had 



135 

heard of the way in which he had 
employed his time. Dieu vous benira, 
' God will bless you/ was reiterated 
from every mouth. 

" The young scholar kept his pro- 
mise, for he often visited the cottage 
of the poor widow, and represented 
her amiableness and situation in such 
lively colours to the marchioness his 
mother, that she took the whole fa- 
mily under her protection, placed 
them in a little way of business, and 
helped them until by their own in- 
dustry they had made themselves 
independent. 

" This, my dear children, was true 
generosity. The object was worthy : 
the donor had the means to make 
happy; none were injured by the 
gift ; no just claims were left unpaid, 
and a poor family were made happy, 
n2 



136 

" This narrative will show you also, 
my dear children, the power and 
goodness of the Almighty, who, by 
his Providence, ordered it so,, that 
what appeared to the poor widow as 
her greatest misfortune should turn 
out to be the very means of afford- 
ing her and her children a future 
provision, and that much more am- 
ple than she could have expected. 
Thus, my dear children, * Provi- 
dence, when none appears, can find 
itself a way." 

Mr. Willock had no sooner finished 
his story, than he had the pleasure to 
observe his young people occupied 
in very serious reflections on what 
they had heard. " My dear children/* 
said he, V I am very much pleased 
for the attention you have paid, and 
for the interest you have taken in 



137 

the misfortunes of Mhe good widow. 
I shall leave vou to enjoy the 
thoughts of her good fortune, and 
of the change produced in her af- 
fairs by the generosity of the young 
scholar. To-morrow evening, I will 
tell you a story of another kind, 
where I shall have to represent to 
you some of the worst of the pas- 
sions of the human mind, such as 
you will hate and detest, when you 
see their ugliness and deformity." 

The next evening Mr. Willock re- 
sumed his office of lecturer, and w 7 as 
fully attended by the young family. 

" I am now," said he, " going to 
tell you a story, in which the passions 
of horror, terror or fright, anger, ha- 
tred or jealousy, and despair, will be 
represented; it is called 
n3 



138 

The Wicked Baron, and Nicholas the 
Honest Wood-cutter. 

" In 'the South part of the forest 
of Dean, in Gloucestershire, there 
lived, many years ago, a poor wood- 
cutter, named Nicholas; he was not 
more than thirty years of age, of a 
handsome figure, lusty, and strong. 
Nicholas was rough and sturdy as an 
oak, but bent as tenderly to the tale 
of distress as the gourd to the wind; 
he was apt, it is true, to be a little 
ill-tempered at times, -and somewhat 
sour; besides being a little rude and 
unfashioned in his manners; but 
somehow or other, so finely deline- 
ated were the characters of nature 
and truth in his mind, that the out- 
lines might be seen in his face, when- 
ever distress or misfortune claimed 
his protection. 



139 

u Nicholas had a wife named Ger- 
trude, and she was naturally a good 
woman, though she would fret and 
scold whenever they happened to be 
poor, which was no uncommon case 
with them : they had nothing but 
hard labour to trust to for sup- 
port, and had a young boy to provide 
for ; besides, it unfortunately hap- 
pened for both of them, that Ger- 
trude was the daughter of a once- 
wealthy farmer, but who J>ad been 
ruined by a murrain among his cat^ 
tie. Gertrude had therefore received 
a littlebetter education than Nicholas, 
who could, however, read and write, 
a great wonder in those days, and 
which he owed, when a boy, to the 
kind instructions of a good old 
monk. Gertrude, who recollected 
her father's happy board, was rather 



140 

out of temper with her situation, 
and so foolish, as to be constantly 
wishing for riches, and pining after 
wealth, which was never likely to 
come to her share. 

" It happened one night, after 
Nicholas had returned home from 
work, and finding Gertrude cross, 
that something like the following 
conversation took place between 
them ; but, my dear children, you 
must avoid this manner of speaking, 
which is only used among poor coun- 
try people. 

c My dear, how ill-tempered you 
are !' cried Nicholas. — c I may well 
be ill tempered,' replied Gertrude ; 
• this is the last meal we shall have 
this week/ — * That is more than you 
know, my dear/ answered her hus- 
band, — c I am almost famished, I am/ 



141 

cried Gertrude. — ' Look at the poor 
cat, and make yourself happy, my 

dear/ replied Nicholas. c Well, 

there's your supper/ cried Gertrude, 
taking a small piece of meat from 
the pot. — c Supper do you call it,' 
answered Nicholas; c why there's 
scarcely enough to bait a mouse-trap: 
but wont you take a bit, my dear ?' 
— 5 I shant touch any of it/ answer- 
ed Gertrude, peevishly. — f Well, for 
my part/ replied Nicholas, Til say 
grace even for this morsel/ 

" Nicholas said all he could to put 
his wife in a good humour, but was 
not lucky enough to succeed. She 
took it into her head that he was ban- 
tering of .her, and began to sob and 
cry, reproaching him with bringing 
her into poverty. — f But it serves me 
right/ cried she. c 1 might have 



142 

married a rich yeoman, so I might, 
and have had plenty, that I might/ — 
* Shu, nonsense/ answered Nicholas. 
' To throw myself away upon a chop- 
per of wood/ cried she ; c and there 
too, we have had to bring up that 
idle boy, because, truly, you found 
him laid in the forest one night/ — 
4 Now don't say a word about that/ 
answered Nicholas, ' or I stmll get 
as ill-tempered as yourself, out of 
mere good nature/ 

M While the wood-cutter and his 
wife were scolding in this way, some 
one knocked loudly at the door, 
when after some more words about 
who should open it, Nicholas went, 
and a stranger very elegantly dressed 
entered the cottage. It was a tem- 
pest, and the night very dark, 

4 Good people/ said the stranger, 



143 

c will you afford a traveller shelter 
from the storm ?'— c Willingly, sir/ 
answered Nicholas. — 'Very willingly, 
sir/ interrupted Gertrude; c wont 
you be pleased to sit down, sir V 

" The stranger was the rich Nor- 
man Baron de la Braunch. — f Well/ 
cried he, < Nicholas, how does for- 
tune use thee ?' — c Roughly enough, 
sir.' — c Heaven knows/ replied Ger- 
trude. — ' Who told you to speak?* 
interrupted Nicholas. f My wife, 
sir, is always grumbling; she must, 
forsooth, be longing after riches; 
and though I don't remember, by the 
goodness of Providence, that we 
have ever wanted a meal, yet she is 
always talking about starving.' — ' Ay, 
ay, nobody knows what I suffer, I 
am sure/ replied Gertrude; 'I 
might have married a rich yeoman. 



144 

that I might/ — ' Come, come, good 
people/ cried the Baron, * be better 
tempered with each other : and do 
you think, good woman, that riches 
would make you happy?' — ' That 
they w r ould, sir/ answered Gertrude ; 
4 for rich folks can eat and drink 
whatever they've a mind to, and cah 
dress as they please; and then they 
can feed ever so many poor people, 
and can make ever so many folks 
happy/ — ' Ah, ah, so they might, 
wife/ answered Nicholas, ' and yet 
not be happy themselves, after all.' 
— ( Well now, I can't see how that 
can be/ replied Gertrude. Mam 
sure I should like hugely to be rich, 
and to have k castle, and forests, and 
deer of my own, and plenty of ser- 
vants/—' And you are quite certain 
that you would be happy if you were 



145 
rich?' repeated the Baron.— ' Yes, 
sir/ cried Gertrude; f and 1 would 
never scold my poor Nicholas any 
more, for he is as good a creature as 
ever was in the world, though I was 
angry with him just now; and to 
say the truth, I do not believe that 
he could have got any more work 
to-day if he had tried ever so ; but 
when one is poor, and there is no 
meat in the pot, one is apt to be a 
little vexed and cross/ 

" Nicholas wiped his eyes at this 
kind atonement of his wife Ger- 
trude* 

" The Baron went into a deep 
reverie — the storm was over — the 
Baron arose, he pulled out a purse 
and put it into Gertrude's hand, and 
then wished them a good-night, — » 

Q 



146 

Nicholas offered to see him through 
the forest, but he declined the offer. 
" The instant the Baron had left 
the cottage, Gertrude run to the 
lamp to examine the purse; it was 
full of gold coin. c Blessed St. An- 
thony/ cried she, c what is this ? all 
gold! Nicholas, look here; see 
what Providence has done for us/ — 
* Ay, I told you so/ answered Ni- 
cholas, ' and you are always grumb- 
ling. 5 — c Nay now, don't be cross, 
Nicholas/ said Gertrude, ' when 
we've had so much good luck; look 
at it, Nicholas, 'tis all pure gold. 
I'll have a new dress, and, I'll go and 
wake poor Henry, and tell him that 
he shall have a new coat.'— •' And 
what am I to have ?' cried Nicholas. — j 
c You shall see us all clean and hap- 
py/ — 'Thank ye/ answered the ho- 



147 
nest wood-cutter, ' that's all I want/ 
— c And we will have a good piece 
of meat in the pot to-morrow/ 
cried Gertrude.— c And I am sure 
you wont sleep to night/ answered 
Nicholas. — c That I shant/ said she: 
' well, who knows what good luck is 
to follow ?' — ' Peace, Gertrude/ 
cried Nicholas, 'may not this money 
be a temptation ?' — € May it, Nicho- 
las V — e Who knows ? ' said Nicholas. 
— c If 1 thought so/ answered Ger- 
trude, ' I would not 'touch it/ — 
'Come, come/ cried Nicholas, e while 
it don't make us covetous after more, 
and lead us to do wrong, we shall 
have nothing to fear. For my part, 
I shall work the same as ever ; but 
don't grumble, Gertrude/ — c You 
shall never hear a cross word from 
me/ answered Gertrude. 
o2 



148 

fC Thus did these poor cottagers 
end their discourse, and both sat 
down to supper, pleased and happy ; 
but they could neither of them rest 
at night for thinking of their riches. 

** Very different sentiments dis- 
turbed the repose of the Baron ; he 
had arrived at the height of his am- 
bition ; he was one of the richest 
knights in the kingdom ; enjoyed 
a good fame, and had the favour of 
the king : yet he was not happy ; 
he was a miserable wretch ; the ho- 
nesty and dignity of a good mind 
was wanting ; he was restless and 
disturbed in the possession of wealth, 
and would almost have parted with 
the whole of it, again to have been 
innocent. 

u One day, about a twelvemonth 
after this time, Nicholas was at work 



J 49 

in the woods, with his boy Henry, 
A stranger had inquired for him at 
the cot; Gertrude had directed him 
to the place where Nicholas was fell- 
ing trees. On the stranger's ap- 
proach, he heard a man scolding — • 
f What/ cried he, ' do you think I 
am to keep you for nothing, you 
little lazy monkey? why don't you 
get another withy, and bind up these 
faggots ?' — c I am at work, as fast 
as I can/ answered the boy, c but 
you are so cross. If you are tired 
of keeping me, 111 leave you to- 
morrow, and seek for support else- 
where.' — ' Leave me, that youshant/ 
cried Nicholas; ' I found you in the 
forest one night, laid on the turf, a 
poor helpless brat; humanity made 
me take you in; and though I am 
apt to be sour at times, I have enough 
o3 



IK) 



oF the same humanity left to prevent 
your ever being turned out/ — c You 
have, indeed, been very kind to me/ 
answered the boy/ — € Well, shake 
hands, Henry/ said Nicholas, f and 
think no more of what has past/ 

H When the stranger entered the 
close, he addressed Nicholas— c Come/ 
said he, \ you must leave off and go 
with me/ — { Truly not 1/ said Ni- 
cholas, f for I have not quite done/ 
— c No matter, thou must go to the 
cottage. I have good news to tell 
thee/ — c Nay, if that be the case/ 
said Nicholas, c it is worth half a 
day's work; so here's pack up/ — 
Nicholas proceeded with the stran- 
ger, and the boy Henry followed. 

" On their arrival at the cottage, 
Gertrude welcomed her husband 
home, and prepared a place for the 



151 

stranger, who prefaced what he had 
to say with some remarks on the ex- 
traordinary changes and vicissitudes 
of human life ; and then inquired 
if they remembered a stranger, of 
more than common appearance, who 
had visited them one stormy night, 
about a twelvemonth before V 

" Nicholas and Gertrude both an- 
swered him, and told him of the pre- 
sent they had received from that 
person. 

c Now/ cried the stranger to Ni- 
cholas, 'I know that thou art truly the 
man whom I seek; prepare to go 
with me to the castle of La Braunch, 
thou, and thy wife and family.' — 
c Indeed, sir, you'll excuse me there/ 
cried Nicholas; ' I shall not stir out 
any more to-day.' — c Do not be 
so obstinate/ replied the stranger, 



152 

* For know, that he who gave you 
the money a twelvemonth since, 
was the Baron de la Braunch. — ■ 
He is dead, and you are heir to all 
his rich demesnes/ — ■' I don't rightly 
understand vou/ answ r ered the wood- 
cutter. — ' The castle, the lands, all 
his real and personal estate, i^thine/ 
- — e My dear, don't you understand 
the gentleman?' cried Gertrude. — 
4 Not I, in good faith/ answered Ni- 
cholas. — s Why, don't you know that 
vou have come to be a rich man, and 
that the rich Baron has left you all 
that he was worth in the world ?'— 
c It is true, indeed,' answered the 
stranger ; c I am witness to the will. 
When the Baron was dying, he de- 
sired a scroll of parchment to be 
brought out of his librarv ; his order 
was instantly obeyed — " This scroll," 



153 

said he, fixing his eye steadily upon 
it, * is my will. Thou wilt find/' 
said he, €€ in the forest of Dean, a 
solitary cottage, inhabited by a wood- 
cutter and his wife. The name of 
the wood-cutter is Nicholas; the 
name of his wife is Gertrude. These 
people are poor; they wish for 
riches, and they shall be rich ; they 
shall be the heirs of the Baron de la 
Braunch; who knows, perhaps to 
them riches may be a blessing/' — 
The Baron affixed his seal to the 
parchment, and soon after expired in 
the arms of father Benedict. 

• Well/ cried Nicholas, c and what 
will become of me ? What can I 
do with all these riches?' — 'Do with 
them ; leave that to me/ said Ger- 
trude, quite overjoyed. — c I don't 
want to be put out of my way/ said 



154 

Nicholas. — Poor Gertrude, in the in-* 
nocence of her heart, stopped the 
mouth of her husband — ' Dear Ni- 
cholas, do not affront the gentleman ; 
I am sure that I should like to be a 
lady very much; and to be sure I 
did think that there was something 
very odd in the strangers behaviour 
to us that night, and took it into my 
head that he would do something 
for us, though to be sure I did not 
think that he would die and leave us 
all his wealth; but this gentleman 
would not say so if it was not true; 
so, Nicholas, if you must be a rich 
man after all, why you must not 
mind a little trouble/ — f Well/ re- 
plied Nicholas, ' if it must be so, 
there's no help for it/ 

" The stranger had provided a 
cloak, with a hat and a sword, with 



155 

which he accoutred the poor wood- 
cutter ; and also a decent robe, which 
he threw over the shoulders of Ger- 
trude. 

" Nicholas would not go without 
the boy Henry ; so they shut 'up the 
cottage, and set out together. It 
was late when they arrived at the 
castle; they were conducted to a 
room provided for them, by the di- 
rection of the stranger, who was the 
Baron's esquire Hathbrand, when 
having caused one of the wardrobes 
of the Baron to be opened, he se- 
lected such of the plainest dresses as 
he thought would best become Ni- 
cholas, Gertrude, and the young boy 
Henry. Gertrude was, however, very 
desirous of being fine, and was also 
much pleased with the attention of 



156 

Ranetrude, the waiting-woman ap- 
pointed to attend on her. 

" Doric the old steward, Jonas the 
butler, and all the rest of the ser- 
vants, were ordered to get themselves , 
in readiness the next morning, to 
attend the reading of the Baron's 
will, and to receive their new 
master, 

u The story was already spread 
abroad, that the Baron had left his 
immense wealth to a poor wood- 
cutter ; and numerous were the re- 
marks and low witticisms on the sub- 
ject, from old Doric, Jonas, and the 
other servants, as they waited in the 
hall, among the numerous tenantry 
of the Baron, to hear the will read, 
and to receive their new lord. 

" At length Nicholas and Gertrude, 






157 

attended by Hathbrand the squire, 
and Ranetrude, entered the hall. — 
Nicholas saluted the domestics and 
tenants without awkwardness, and 
stept forward without dismay. 

" Hathbrand held the parchment 
in his hand; he spoke — 'My friends, 
peace be with you all; I here pro- 
duce the will of the late Baron de la 
Braunch. Attend — " Know all men, 
that I the Baron de la Braunch, do 
give and bequeath to Nicholas le 
Blanc, of the forest of Dean, all the 
real and personal estate of which I 
now stand possessed, on condition 
that he visits the third chamber in 
the western turret alone, there to 
unlock the chest which contains the 
title-deeds, and that he never divul- 
ges the secrets they will unfold." 
The third chamber in the western 

T 



15S 
turret had not been used for many 
years, as the eastern part of the cas- 
tle had been inhabited by the Baron. 

" Nicholas ascended the western 
turret alone, and after some difficulty 
opened the door of the third cham- 
ber, when he entered, and discovered 
in a remote corner a large iron chest, 
the key of which was hanging near 
the entrance. Nicholas attempted to 
open it; at length by an effort he 
succeeded; he lifted up the lid, and 
took out a large scroll of parch- 
ment. Nicholas read — ' The title of 
the Benson de la Braunch to these de- 
mesnes is murder /* 

" Nicholas let fall the scroll, but 
recovered it again ; he run into the 
gallery, and then stood motionless. 

" And now, my dear children," 
said Mr. Willock, " let us find some- 



159 
thing like the face of honest Ni- 
cholas, when he was reading how bad 
a title he had to the riches bequeath- 
ed him. Here it is, expressive of 
his abhorrence of the crime, and of 
the object who left him his wealth. 
This is the face of 

HORROR, 

u An object despised, says Le 
Brim, sometimes causes Horror ; and 
then the eyebrow knits, and sinks a 
great deal more ; the eyeball placed 
at the bottom of the eye, is half co- 
vered by the lower eyelid; the 
mouth is half open, but closer in the 
middle than the sides, which being 
drawn back, make wrinkles in the 
cheeks ; the face grows pale, and 
the eyes become livid; the muscles 
and the veins are marked. 
. p2 



160 
" But to continue — While Nicho- 
las was gone to the western turret,, 
refreshment was prepared in the hall, 
and Gertrude and Henry waited 
anxiously for his return to partake 
of it with them. The honest old 
steward and \Ionas the butler had 
not been sparing of expence on the 
occasion: so that the entertainment 
was as superb as if the Baron had 
been alive. They had begun to 
like their new master, who was a bold 
generous fellow, and they were de- 
termined to show him all the respect 
and homage they could, notwith- 
standing he had been a wood-cutter. 
" They w r ere waiting in suspense 
for Nicholas ; presently his steps 
were heard descending the stairs 
quickly. He entered in great agi- 
tation— ' Gertrude/ was all that he 
could say ; his face was the face of 



161 

TERROR. 

as represented by Le Bran, The 
violence of this passion alters all the 
parts of the face ; the eyebrows rise 
in. the middle ; its muscles are mark- 
ed, swelled, pressed .one against the 
other, and sunk towards the nose, 
which draws up as well as the nos- 
trils ; the eyes are very open ; the 
upper eyelid is hid under the eye- 
brow; the. white of the eye is en* 
compassed with red; the eyeball 
fixes towards the lower part of the 
eye; the lower part of the eyelid 
swells, and becomes livid; the mus- 
cles of the nose and cheeks swell, 
and these last terminate in a point 
towards the sides of the nostrils; 
the mouth is very open, and its cor- 
ners very apparent ; the muscles and 
p3 



162 

and veins of the neck are stretched ; 
the hair stands an end ; the colour 
of the face, that is, the end of the 
nose, the lips, the ears, and round 
the eyes, is pale and livid. Such 
was the face of honest Nicholas. He 
fell into a chair, and let drop the 
scroll. 

' Heavens ! what ails my poor 
Nicholas?' cried Gertrude; 'speak, 
speak to me, Nicholas/ — ' Let us to 
our cottage, Gertrude/ replied Ni- 
cholas, ' let us to our cottage V — 
' What ails you, my dear Nicholas ?* 
said Gertrude, feeling his hand. ' Oh 
dear, how cold !' — f Read, read !' 
said Nicholas. 

" Hathbrand took up the scroll 
and read — € Know, thou who longest 
after riches, that the title to these 
estates is murder; the infant heir to 



fin 

these demesnes was on Christmas 
night, now fourteen years since, left 
to perish in the forest of Dean/ 

'What is that?' cried Nicholas; 
* read it again ; as I live, the very 
night I found our poor Henry/— 
c The very night indeed/ repeated 
Gertrude. — c Are you sure of this?* 
interrupted Hathbrand. — c Most cer- 
tain, sir/ replied Nicholas. € I re- 
member the night very well; it was 
bitter cold. Oh dear! oh dear! 
this is all Providence ! this is all 
Providence V 

" Nicholas embraced Henry : Ger- 
trude embraced him also. 

u Henry wept ;, he understood all 
that was said ; he took the hand of 
Nicholas — g Thou hast fed me/ said 
he, * out of thy scanty pittance; 
thou must not leave me, Nicholas. 



164 

I have na friend that I. know. of, but 
mv. dear Nicholas.' 

''Nicholas consented to remain in 
a cottage near the castle, but refused 
to be rich. Gertrude had no longer 
any desire to be rich. 

" Hathbrand and the servants were 
delighted to find their young master 
so noble and gallant a youth,, and 
immediately did him homage. 

" As they were speaking- of these 
surprising events, father Benedict 
entered; be brought with him Hugo, 
a wretch whom the Baron, in his 
confessions, had accused of being 
his accomplice, and who had left the 
child to perish in the woods; he was 
strongly guarded, but denied the 
charge ; he bid defiance to the power 
of., his accusers, and insisted- that the 
Baron had died in a .state of insanity* 



165 
ft Surely here are the features of 
this bravo, fall of defiance and re- 
sentment; is it not the face of 

ANGER ? 

u The effects of anger shew its 
nature ; the eyes become red and 
inflamed ; the eyeball is staring and 
sparkling ; the eyebrows are some- 
times elevated, and sometimes sunk 
down equally ; the forehead is very 
much wrinkled, with wrinkles be- 
tween the eyes; the nostrils are 
open and enlarged ; the lips press- 
ing against one another; the under 
one rising over the upper one, !eaye& 
the corners of the mouth a little 
open, making a cruel and disdainful 
grin. 

"The Baron had, however, con- 
fessed his own wickedness, and the 



166 
cause of his cruelty towards the in- 
fant. The facts were these. The 
Baron Hubert, who was ordered to 
Palestine, left his wife lady Bertha, 
and his child Edward, under the pro- 
tection .of his friend, th^ Baron de 
laBraunch: lord Hubert was killed 
in the crusade, and his lady died soon 
after, leaving the infant under the 
guardianship of the Baron, who 
fearing that one day the child would 
be likely to succeed to his father's 
possessions, it became hateful to. 
him. The .mind of the Baron was 
set upon the wealth of his deceased 
friend ; be was constantly jealous and 
disturbed at the sight of the infant; 
he had laid a plan to destroy it.— 
What a dreadful situation it must 
have been to have had. a mind like 
his L When once such wicked ideas 



167 
are entertained/ there is ali end of 
all rest, of all enjoyment, and of all 
comfort.- The face represents th$ 
storm that agitates the breast. It is 
horrid even to look at it. How does 
Le Brim describe it ? 

HATRED, or JEALOUSY. 

" This passion- wrinkles the fore- 
head ; the eyebrows are sunk down 
and kriif; the eyeball is half hid un- 
der the eyebrows, which turn towards 
the object; it should appear full of 
fire, as well as the white of the eye 
and the eyelid; the nostrils cpen^ 
more marked than ordinary, and 
drawn backward, so as to jnake wrin- 
kles on the cheeks; the mouth is so 
shut as to show the teeth, and very 
much sunk down; the muscles of the 
jaw appear sunk ; the colour bf the 



168 

face is partly inflamed, and partly 
yellowish ; the lips pale or livid. 

"The infant was taken into the 
woods by Hugo, where it was left 
to perish ; and the wicked Baron 
|( soon contrived to persuade the do- 

mestics that the child had died of a 
fever; and had even a mock burial, 
the better to deceive them. 

ts But, my dear children/' said 
Mr. Willock, " if the former was 
the countenance of the wicked Ba- 
ron before he committed the crime, 
how did it appear now ? instead of 
finding that he could enjoy hisriches, 
his mind was full of horror and dis- 
may; his anguish became extreme; 
his face appeared not only deformed 
but hideous; the forehead wrink 
from the top to the bottom; tlitJ 
eyebrows bent down over the eyes, 



169 

and pressing one another on the sides 
of the nose ; the eyes seemingly on 
fire and full of blood; the eyeball 
disturbed, hid under the eyebrows; 
sparkling and unfixed ; the eyelid 
swelled and livid ; the nostrils large, 
open, and lifted up; the end of the 
nose sunk down ; the muscles, leaders, 
and veins, swelled and stretched ; 
the upper part of the cheeks large; 
marked, and narrow towards the jaw; 
the mouth drawn backwards, more 
open at the sides than in the middle; 
the lower lip large and turned out, 
he gnashes his teeth, foams, bites 
his lips, which are pale, as is the 
rest of the face ; the hair is strait, 
and stands an end ; such was the 
^i'ture of the wicked Baron, the 
picture of 



170 

DESPAIR.- % 
u What a dreary thing, my clear 
children, must be despair — afflicted 
by an accusing conscience, and be- 
reft of hope! What would this 
wicked man have given, after he had 
parted with his ill-gotten wealth, 
to have found the child alive ! but 
that felicity was denied him living; 
he was to die in affliction. 

" The wicked Hugo was taken to 
prison to await his punishment. — 
But let us turn to a more agreeable 
subject — the honest wood- cutter, 
who could refuse all the allurements 
of wealth, because it was iil-gotten; 
even his wife Gertrude, who loved 
riches, disdained to enjoy them on 
such terms. What a lesson does this 
afford to us to be noble in mind, 
and to resist temptation ! The good 



171 

do not feel any of the violent pas- 
sions ; they are moderate and tem- 
perate in all they do; they are un- 
disturbed, and through all the changes 
of life may depend on that Provi- 
dence, the recollection of which 
occasioned the great and good Jonas 
Hanway, who founded the Marine 
Society, to use the motto — c JS'ever 
Despair.' 

" Never, then, my dear children, 
suffer your young minds to long 
after riches, when they cannot be 
purchased by fair and honest means; 
for you may rest assured that it is 
much better to prefer, 

" The wise man's choice, by which 
you'll find, 

JVb wealth is like a quiet mind." 

FINIS. 

■ ■ ' '■' ' ' ■ ' ■ ■■ i » 

Printed by Lane, Darling, & Co. Leadenball Street, London* 



BOOKS 

FOR THE 

Instruction and Amusement of Youth 7 
Sold by A. K. Newman & Co. Leadenhall Street 

Bound in Red Leather, elegant Plates. 

Chapone's Letters on the Mind i ' 

Chesterfield's (Lord) Advice to his Son 1 

Death of Abel, by Gessner 1 

Economy of Human Life I 

Gay's Fables 1 

Gregory's Legacy to his Daughters i . . . . . 1 

Indian Cottage and Coffee- House of Surat i 

Howe's Devout Exercises 1 ! 

ilasselas, by Dr. Johnson •••• l 

"Wisdom in Miniature t l 

Thomson's Seasons l 

Elegant co cured Plates, sewed in Fancy Paper. 

AH Baba and the Forty Thieves 1 

Adventures of the Fortunate Woman . . 1 

Cobier and his Scolding Wife 1 

Gulliver's Travels and Wonderful Adventures .. l 
Jack Daw * at Home ;" or the Rout of the Birds 

that were not invited by the Peacock 1 

Jack the Giant-Killer 1 

Lion's Parliament, or the Beasts in Debate .... 1 

Madame Grimalkin's Party, or the Cat's Concert 1 
Sam and his Gun, with his wonderful Skill in ■ 

Shooting 1 

Seven Champions of Christendom.. I 

The House that Jack built 1 

Twelve Labours of Hercules 3 < 

Valentine and Orson 1 ( 

Each of the above, with plain plates. . 1 

History of Tabby, a Favourite Cat, as related by 

Herself to her Kittens, 3 coloured plates .... 1 c 
Pomona's Frolic, or the Grand Jubilee of the Ani- 
mated Fruit, 2 parts, 12 coloured plates ... 
The First Voyage of Columbus, 4 coloured plates 

The Second and Third Voyages of Ditto, 4 ditto o 

The. Fourth Voyage .,4 ditto o 






a* 






v\ 



i 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Nov. 2004 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 16066 
(724)779-2111 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




013 500 398 



